Hikio Fiction
by TealeafCustom
Summary: Highschool students Hikigaya Hachiman and Yumiko Miura lead double lives as Contract Killers working for the Crime Boss of Chiba, A.K.A Teacher Hiratsuka Shizuka. Upon successfully retrieving a mysterious briefcase, a little incident on the road brings unwanted trouble for the two. Based on the movie Pulp Fiction. You don't have to watch the film to read this. A parody and an AU.
1. Act 0 Act 1

**So I wrote this as a challenge from a friend to combine the scenes from** ** _Pulp Fiction_** **with** ** _Oregairu,_ dialogue included.** **This abomination is the result.  
**

 **Expect some OOC, some lines are completely incompatible with the characters.**

 **Disclaimer: All Intellectual Properties belong to their respective owners. I do not own anything except for this fic. Yahari Oregairu belongs to Wataru Watari. Pulp Fiction belongs to Miramax and Quentin Tarantino.**

* * *

 **Act 0**

 **Prologue**

In a dirty little rented apartment in Matsudo, three people stood among the two corpses that laid unmoving and lifeless. Two people, to be exact. The third was huddled near the door, his rapid breathing and incessant mumbling speaking volumes about his current mental state.

"So is that our informant? What's his name?" The girl scowled, irritation clear in her tone.

"Hm? Oh, that's Tobe." The boy remarked simply, still admiring his handiwork by glancing around the apartment. Mission complete; they got what they came for.

"You better tell him to shut the fuck up, he's getting on my nerves."

"Tobe. Tobe?" The shuddering teenager was seemingly lost in his own world, lamenting that he had just watched two of his friends turn into Swiss Cheese. Annoyed, the Assassin called out his name a little louder. "Tobe!" Snapping out of his confusion, the informant looked up only to find twin pairs of narrowed eyes glaring back at him.

"I'd knock that shit off if I was you." The boy growled, eyes slit like a snake's, cold and unfeeling.

Their impromptu staring contest was cut short when the bathroom door burst open, and with it a heavyset teenager rushed out wielding a revolver, a crazed look in his eyes and an itchy trigger finger spasming madly.

"Die, you motherfuckers!" He roared, emptying the weapon as six blasts echoed through the tiny apartment…only for absolutely nothing to happen. The assailant's face turned from a triumphant grin to a horrified stare as his targets stood still as statues instead of collapsing like broken dolls. The feeling of victory he had felt in his gut curled up and crumbled like dust, replaced by an all-encompassing fear. The two killers looked down at themselves, then at each other with visible confusion before turning to their assailant, annoyance and disdain present on their faces. Each fired a single shot, before the girl decided to put one more into the still twitching corpse for good riddance.

The girl grimaced and bit her lip, fury in her expression. Marching over to the still panicking Tobe, she crouched down at glared right into his eyes.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell us somebody was in the bathroom?" She hissed, the thought of putting a bullet right between his eyebrows sounding very tempting. "Slipped your mind? Did you forget someone was in there with a goddamn hand cannon?"

"Did you see the size of the gun he fired at us? It was bigger than him." The boy remarked, mildly astonished. He turned around to face the six staggered bullet holes in the wall behind him. Each was slightly larger than the size of his thumb, a testament to the amount of damage they could inflict. "We should be fucking dead."

"Yeah I know, we were lucky." The girl answered dubiously, her immolating gaze never once leaving the whimpering teen in the corner.

"No no no no, that shit wasn't luck."

"Maybe."

"This was divine intervention. You know what divine intervention is?"

That finally got the girl's attention as she paused, turning around as a smirk started to form on her face. "I think so. That means that God came down from Heaven and stopped the bullets?"

"That's right. That's exactly what it means. God came down from Heaven and stopped these motherfucking bullets."

"...I think it's time for us to leave, Hikio."

* * *

 **Act 1**

The immaculate suit-and-tie combo seemed to fit her like a glove whilst he fiddled with the constricting tie like it was suffocating him; he had never gotten used to these stupid things even after a whole year of wearing them daily. The fish-eyed teenager never did understand why people wore these abhorrent nooses to work. Maybe it was poetic of them to hang themselves from literal nooses to symbolize their death - after all, if you work you lose. Yet here he was, returning from another job well done. There goes his dreams of being a househusband. Good grief, they looked like a pair of lawyers or waiters for a fancy restaurant rather than Contact Killers. Which to be fair, was their exact cover story should anyone get suspicious - the suits were lined with these bulletproof kevlar weaves: real fancy stuff.

Sighing, Hikigaya Hachiman glanced back at the shaken mess of a human being that had reluctantly followed them out of the bullet-riddled apartment at his behest. Poor bastard and his pals owed a certain mysterious briefcase to one Hiratsuka Shizuka for quite a while now, which practically meant their lives were forfeit to the collectors she had sent. The debtor, Tobe was his name, shivered slightly as he stumbled towards the car-park, weak at the knees. Hachiman didn't blame him. He himself had shown a similar reaction when he had saw someone die for the first time. Now it barely even fazed him.

How had he even ended living this kind of life? A year ago he was worrying about what the next bi-weekly test was going to be about, and the now he had just finished plastering somebody's brains all over the wall with a bullet. The girl next to him simply looked unconcerned, making her way to the car with an air of relaxed ease despite having just help him murder two people in cold blood; that was Yumiko Miura for you. It was only when the blonde-haired assassin sent him a look of curiosity mixed with annoyance that he realized he had been staring for a bit too long.

"What is it?" She demanded, her gaze unflinching and cold with eyes like chips of jade. Straightforward as always, this girl. Oi, oi, you're going to find it hard to get a boyfriend with that attitude of yours. After all, hot heads and cold hearts never solved anything.

"Just thinking about you." Hachiman replied without properly considering what was coming out of his mouth. The result was an almost unnoticeable tint of red blossoming on the girl's cheeks as she looked away in embarrassment. Unfortunately for him, he completely misunderstood her turning away as a sign of contempt or disgust.

Great, she probably thought he was a complete weirdo now, if she hadn't before. Rolling his eyes, the highschooler simply strode over to the car and opened the door for his partner-in-crime as a sort of chivalrous makeshift apology, which only served to embarrass her even further.

"Thanks." She said quietly, not once looking at him. Internally he groaned, thinking that he had somehow messed things up again somehow. Well, at least their mission was a complete success. They had retrieved the briefcase and captured one of the debtors to tell the tale. He was pretty sure what the boss wanted, though one could never be too sure of what was running through that woman's mind.

* * *

"Deal with them however you wish." The Crime lord had stated, waving the two off nonchalantly like the outcome hardly mattered to her. Knowing the woman, it probably didn't. She puffed away at the cigarette in her mouth even in her own personal office, which had been permanently stained with the stench of smoke and whiskey. Damn woman smokes like a chimney and drank like a fish. "Just get me the briefcase."

"Dead or alive?" Miura inquired innocently, apparently more interested in her phone than the lives of the people she had just been ordered to "deal" with. Ah, the cruelty of youth. People only cared about themselves unless it benefited them in one way or another. Any sense of morality or empathy was just caused by one's upbringing because they've been raised to fear punishment, take that away and they would run rampant. He himself had experienced it one too many times to be uncomfortable now. Ironically, all his past problems seemed minor and insignificant now that he had looked death in the eye and dealt it to others.

Miura too, had changed. From abnormal Riajuu to contract killer working for the Family. Can't criticize her too much since he had taken the same path, admittedly for much different reasons. He didn't pry when she had first joined the team after him and certainly didn't intend to start now. Surprisingly, she had taken to the business pretty well; Hachiman remembered just how nervous he was during his first few missions.

"You deaf, girlie?" The older woman leaned forward, revealing her impressive cleavage to both teens as she breathed out a long drag of cigarette smoke into their faces. That's a whole lot of woman. "I'm sure you know what happens to people who don't pay their dues in this city. As far as they're concerned, _I am the City_.".

He hated when she did that. Not only was it pretty intimidating but it was so damn distracting and arousing at the same time. Hey, he might be a killer but he was also a healthy 18 year old teenager with raging hormones. In fact, nearly any male student in his class would have loved to get a glimpse of the twin peaks of a beautiful older woman. It was practically a fetish one could only dream of happening.

Imagine that: "My Hot Teacher is Secretly a Crime lord Who Wants to Hire Me as a Personal Employee?!"...It sounded like a bad light novel plot to be honest. Probably one of those horrible wish-fulfillment ones that end up becoming successful and even being adapted to anime despite having a completely ludicrous premise and writing. If only Hiratsuka had been 10 or even 5 years younger he would have fallen madly in love by now, as bad of an idea it might be to romance one of Chiba's underground Crime lords. Oh, what a lovely youth romantic-comedy it could have been. He was abruptly broken out of his little daydream when he noticed how silent the room was becoming.

The two women stared at each other impassively, Miura having not budged an inch despite receiving a faceful of smoke while Hiratsuka scrutinized her like how one would observe an insect. The stalemate was only broken when the Crime lord snuffed out her cigarette on a nearby ashtray, the sizzle of ash ominously cutting through the silence like a scalpel. "Those boys have played around for far too long. When I say I want them dealt with, I might as well have said I want their heads on a silver platter. Or a stick, whichever analogy you prefer."

"Can't we leave one alive? Preferably the informant that got us their location in the first place. Y'know, to teach people not to screw with the Family." Hachiman interjected, attempting to defuse the situation between the two. He was smarter than to let Miura fire back a retort of her own; a catfight between the two beautiful ladies might sound hot on paper, but the reality was that they would probably tear each other apart if left alone. The question was whether it would be verbally or physically.

He immediately regretted his decision as both their heads swiveled in his direction, calculating gazes locking on to him like heat-seeking missiles. Oh well, better him than them he supposed. Miura rolled her eyes and Hiratsuka grinned, her Cheshire-like visage looking much like a cat that had found something interesting to play with.

"That's a good suggestion, Hikigaya. I always knew I kept you around for some reason other than errand boy or furniture."

"Oi. I take offense to that."

Miura huffed, folding her arms with an accusatory look on her face and completely ignoring the only male in the room. "Why do you always side with him on these matters? It almost seems as if some favoritism is at work here."

"Well, the boy does have a clean record of a 100% retrieval rate compared to your spotty one." The older woman smiled, showing pearly white teeth despite her daily intake tobacco and alcohol. When she was this close to him he could actually smell some of it on her breath. "I guess you're correct in saying that he's a favorite of mine."

"It was just that one time-"

And there they go. At least they're arguing about a tamer topic rather than grabbing at each others throats. He'd learnt how scary women could be when he walked in on Hiratsuka and another employee locked in a screaming match. Now that he remembered, it was more of him walking in to stop them since the entire level could hear their argument. He had a seemingly calming effect on Hiratsuka when she was angry. How strange, but never gave it any further thought.

* * *

Hachiman sighed once more, now fully finished in relieving the past few hours of his life. He'd rather not think about the shootout in the apartment despite how comfortable he was with killing people now. It was rather depressing how much he had changed since he was hired and trained by Hiratsuka. On the bright side, Tobe had stopped shaking after awhile but Miura kept her pistol unholstered in case he tried anything while in the backseat. Hachiman had managed to calm him down by reassuring that nobody wasn't going to get shot for no reason.

"Hey, Hikio." Miura started, a look of boredom etched on her face...which was how she usually looked, actually. Recently almost everyone on the team had started addressing him with that dumb nickname since she had started calling him that. Not only was he employed now, his job was earning him big bucks; how could anyone even possibly accuse him of being a Hikkikomori? Not that I particularly care but a man's pride is one of the most important things in the world, woman - please don't trample on my self-esteem any more than you already have, he thought. I already do it to myself on a daily basis.

Completely ignoring his mental monologue, the blonde continued on without a care in the world. "You ever see that show "Cops"?" She asked. He glanced at her to continue, the inner workings of the vehicle punctuating their conversation with the occasional rumble as he shifted gears.

"Cuz y'know, I was watching it this one time and there was this, this cop on who was talking about this gun fight he had with in a hallway with this guy alright," She continued, waving her left hand about as if to describe the story to him, while the loaded pistol was held firmly in her right. "And he just unloaded on this guy and nothing happened."

She looked over to him, gauging his reaction. When her partner showed no reaction except a nod to her thrilling story and kept driving, she continued on regardless.

"He didn't hit nothing. Okay, it was just him and this guy. I mean, you know... it's freaky but it happens."

"Look Miura, I'd rather not talk about it. In fact, I think I'll take what happened back there as a sign that I should be getting some R&R." Hachiman groaned exasperatedly, one eye on the road and the other on the gun she held. He wasn't particularly happy about the unholstered weapon but he didn't want to spoil her mood now that it got better. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they say. At least she had to common sense not to muzzle-sweep him with it. In the end, he doubted their additional passenger was going to try anything risky.

"What the fuck does that mean?" She scoffed, her tone questioning yet relaxed at the same time.

"It means that I'm taking a break." Hachiman replied, eyes still scanning the mirrors for any pursuers just in case. "From here on in, you won't be seeing me for the next month except for school."

"Aw come on, that's no fun." She protested. "What about all the adventures we've had together? Besides, being shot at is pretty much in our line of work. It's pretty much an occupational hazard."

"We're high-school students, Miura. At this point we should be more worried on tackling math equations instead of people who owe the boss money. I'm pretty sure you'd prefer shopping for clothes instead of ammunition. Why don't you try doing some normal girly things for a change?"

"Girly things? Pfft, screw that. I'm having the time of my life here and face it; so are you. You've gotten used to the Family life. You've done literally hundreds of jobs by now; you're practically an underground bogeyman." She drawled lazily, folding her arms and unconsciously displaying her sizable goods to her poor partner, which was coincidentally trying to focus on the road and failing miserably without her noticing. "You've been shot at dozens of times before in the past year. Now that I think about it, I was in most of those battles with you."

Which probably caused most of those battles in the first place, he thought. The girl always had a penchant to go in guns blazing or with death threats flying out of her mouth. It was only under his specific guidance that she'd learn to be a little more patient when dealing with others. It was actually less of guidance and more of begging and pleading that got her to calm down.

* * *

"Look I just need a break from work, that's all. Today's events have opened up my eyes a bit." Internally, Hachiman despaired. Why did she have to be so sporadic? First she was all cold as ice and now she that she was feeling chatty she'd be unstoppable. Her assets were seriously taking up a huge portion of his attention as well. Why did all the women around him have to be so visually appealing to the human eye, he wondered.

She blinked in confusion before her eyes lit up with realization. "So what, you believe in fate now? Come on, Hikio. Even if any bullets had hit you're still wearing a vest- For goodness sake, remember that time where I pulled one out of your thigh?"

"I'm just saying, it's a sign. Call it divine intervention if you want to."

"Bah, you're freaking out on us." She pouted, leaning back even further into her seat and puffing her chest out simultaneously. Be strong, young Hachiman. Avoid looking lest you fall under the spell of the mountains of madness, giving in to your desire to look would only spell your doom. Keep it cool, Hachiman - don't stare or you'll be dead meat.

"Look, I'm telling Hiratsuka today. I need a break."

"Why don't you tell her at the same time why?" Miura teased, a grin starting to form on her normally stoic features. He had to admit, she looked rather appealing when she smiled. Brings out the light in her eyes- gotta focus on the road.

"Don't worry I will."

"Yeah and I'll bet you 10,000 Yen that she'd laugh her ass off." The girl joked, mirth apparent in her voice. Well, at least she was enjoying all this at his expense.

"I don't give a damn if she does." Hachiman retorted simply. In the backseat, Tobe nervously looked between the two interacting like an old married couple. Hopefully he wasn't going to be shot as long as he didn't try anything stupid.

"Pssshhhh." Miura scoffed, turning her attention to the hostage in the backseat. "Tobe, what do you make of all this?"

The informant flinched as though struck, but did the best he could to answer the seemingly insane hitwoman. "Ma'am I don't even have an opinion." Just play along, he thought. And he just might survive this.

"Well, you gotta have an opinion!" Miura exclaimed and turned around to face him, pistol still gripped tightly in her hand as she did. "I mean, do you believe think that God came down from Heaven and stopped-"

* * *

 **BLAM.**

* * *

The gunshot rang through the car like a thunderclap, deafening the two for a split second. The rear window was painted red as the pistol round tore through Tobe's skull like wet tissue paper, ending his riajuu life instantly before anyone could even react. The insides of his head exploded all over the car's interior, covering the two in splatters of blood and gore like bits of confetti at a birthday party.

"Whoa! What the fuck's happening..." Hachiman yelled, reaching over to the back of his head and recoiling in disgust when he picked a fragment of brain matter out of his hair. "Oh shit, man!" He flicked the piece of Tobe off his hand quickly, wiping his palm on the dashboard doing little to clean the blood off. By some miracle he had avoided slamming his foot down on the brakes, opting to stare between the smoking gun and the disaster in the backseat with growing panic.

Miura did a double-take and blinked owlishly, apparently just as confused as he was before realization gradually dawned on her. "Oh man, I shot Tobe in the face..." She remarked casually, almost as if she had just spilled a glass of water. The scene was even more surreal considering how calm she was despite being covered in the blood of a person who was just recently alive a few seconds ago.

"Why the fuck would you do that!?" He cried indignantly and glanced back again before turning his attention back to the road ahead. Splotches of crimson coated the windshield and steering wheel, a constant reminder of the absolute absurdity of what had just happened. It was almost funny how things could change so quickly in the span of a few seconds, just like his life had on the day he met Hiratsuka. One moment everything was fine and the next people were dead. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.

"I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident!" She complained, looking between at Tobe's cooling corpse and her discharged pistol before emptying the magazine and clearing it to make sure no rounds were left in the chamber. Of all the times to commit to good gun safety she had to do it after someone was accidentally shot.

"Oh man, I've seen some crazy-ass shit in my time but this..."

"Chill out man, I told you it was an accident." Miura began to wipe the blood off her face with her sleeve, or at least attempted to. It didn't do much except smear it all over her clothes as well. "I mean you probably went over a bump or something."

"Hey the car ain't hit no motherfucking bump!" Hachiman retorted, shooting her a venomous glare that spoke volumes. Granted, it probably wasn't her fault...probably. He noted that she was using one of those Chinese-made pistols again, ugh. He wasn't even sure of how to react, stuck in a horrific mix of confusion and anger rolled up into a ball of uncertainty that lodged itself down his throat. Deep down he knew he shouldn't fault her but couldn't help getting upset at the sheer insanity of the crisis they were now facing, this as a complete and absolute disaster in his book.

"Hey look man, I didn't mean to shoot the son of a bitch, the gun went off I don't know why!"

"Well look at this fucking mess, man!" He gestured, one hand on the wheel while the other waved to the blood-covered dashboard. "We're on a city street in broad daylight here!"

"I can't believe it, man-" She groaned, starting to look sorry. Sorry for herself, the guy she'd just accidentally killed, or for dragging him into this ridiculous situation; he really didn't particularly care. All he knew was that they were in hot water if anyone noticed. To think that he'd promised Tobe nobody was getting shot. So much for that.

"Well believe it now motherfucker, we gotta get this car off the road!" The assassin scanned the mirrors once more, hoping that no police cars had suddenly appeared behind them in this moment of crisis; that would have been the cherry on top. "You know cops tend to notice shit like you're driving a car drenched in fucking blood!"

"Just take it- Just take it to a friendly place, that's all!"

"This is Matsudo, Miura! Hiratsuka ain't got no friendly places in Matsudo!"

"Well Hikio this ain't my fucking town man!" Miura howled, clearly agitated now that the full reality of the situation sunk in.

"Shit!" He cursed, reaching into his chest pocket for the burner phone. Alright calm down, he thought. No use getting angry at her for something that already happened...to her credit she did seem remorseful for her actions. Right, focus. The important thing was getting to a safehouse. Whatever, they could settle her problems with trigger discipline later if she had any. Hopefully she was right and it was a case of bad manufacturing instead of bad handling.

* * *

"Whatcha doing?" She groaned, still wiping off the blood as if it were a particularly nasty spot of dirt that had stuck to her. In any other situation, he would have found a girl complaining about being a sticky mess beside him to be a blessing from the heavens. Right now he was to busy praying for the other party to pick up the phone to care.

"I'm calling my partner in Shimona Farms. He should be on a job here from Hiratsuka too."

"And where's that?"

"It's just over the hill near the outskirts of the city." Hachiman scrolled through the disposable phone until he found the right number and pushed down the call button with a silent finality. It was going to be tough to explain this one. "If Zaimoukuza's ass ain't home I don't know what the fuck we're going do cause I ain't got any other partners in Matsudo."

The ringtone of the small device seemed to last an eternity when in reality it only took a few seconds for an answer. Miura grumbled and sulked guiltily, glancing between the dead body in the backseat, her not-so-faithful pistol and her busy partner. She had screwed up today and she knew it; the least she could do to help him was cooperate. He was always cleaning up people's messes...dammit. She would make it up to him someday.

"Zaimoukuza! Yo! How you doing, it's Hachiman. Just listen up man, me and my partner are in some serious fucking shit man: we're in a car and we need to get off the road, pronto. I need to use your garage for a couple of hours."

The moment the words left his mouth he had to hold the phone away from his ear; the otaku was practically screeching into the other end launching into another one of his famed rants about society and the evils of youth today. "The Otaku Hitman", he could almost see the headlines already if that weirdo ever got caught. The mainstream media would probably blame anime as the cause of his insanity and petition to ban it from production forever. Youths everywhere would then be forced to abandon their two-dimensional waifus or be labeled as dangerous unstable weirdos with murderous tendencies, which in turn would lead to the Otaku Uprising. Zaimoukuza could be the catalyst for an age of darkness and he don't even know it.

"Well if it isn't the great Hachiman, here to grace us with his glorious presence. Tell me brother, what form of intricate adventures have you gotten yourself into this time? I'll have you know that my place is always welcome to the likes of Arbiters such as yourself. After all, it was you who revealed the light and opened my eyes-"

Cringing, he held the phone just close enough to make out what was being said while largely ignoring the chuunibyou tirade that spewed forth from the otaku's mouth like a verbal tsunami. He would tell him about the dead body later after they arrived. If memory served him well Zaimoukuza despised dealing with corpses, highly unlikely he would stand having a fresh one in his house, temporary or not. It would be unpleasant to finally reveal that to him, but he had to lie for now.

Sighing once more the highschooler glanced at Miura, only to find the girl sulking unhappily in her seat. In time he would probably forgive her but he was currently preoccupied with finding the most discreet route to the safehouse based on Zaimoukuza's directions. She still had a lot to learn, it seems.

How did things end up like this, he thought to himself once more. Such Misfortune - It was as if his life was a slippery slope that led him to increasingly insane situations. From lonely highschooler to Crimminal Contract Killer; someone should write a book about his life. Maybe he'd do it himself when he got older and disguise it as a power-fantasy light novel.

The vehicle sped across the land like an arrow, barely keeping to the speed limit as it blazed a path towards their objective. It wasn't everyday that you drove through town with a dead guy in the backseat but hey, first time for everything. Just another strange day of the life of one Hikigaya Hachiman, ladykiller (or so he wished) and mankiller (for real).

* * *

 **End of Act 1**

 **Thank You for reading, it's my first fic. My apologies if the formatting is garbage, I'm still trying out the website's uploading functions. If this gets enough favorites/follows I'll write a follow up chapter titled "Dead Riajuu Storage" starring Zaimoukuza as Jimmie and Kawasaki as Winston Wolfe (The Wolf).**

* * *

 **Additional Story notes/references:**

 **Note that Miura never met Hayama in this AU, and thus wasn't friends with him or his clique, including Tobe.**

 **As expected, Hachiman and Miura are rather out of character here due to the lines from Pulp Fiction. The characters have completely different personalities but I've tried to merge them together as best as I could. Not sure if it blended together properly.**

 **The teenager who missed all his shots in the apartment is Yamori, one of Tobe's friends. Not sure if I spelt his name correctly here.**

 **Hiratsuka's "I am the City" is a reference/shout-out to Aria of Omega's line in Mass Effect (I am Omega). Another IP that I do not own.**

 **Miura's "Chinese Handgun" is a Norinco Type-54 (a Chinese copy of the Russian Tokarev TT33) in contrast to Vincent's M1911A1. It's also the weapon that the antagonist of Sword Art Online 2 (Death Gun) uses. Shoots 7.62 x 25, nasty stuff. These pistols were smuggled into Japan in significant quantities and are often used by the Yakuza. I wanted an Asian gun since this story takes place in Japan, think of it as a Japanese Mobster compared to an American Mobster.**

 **In the film Vincent shoots Marvin by accident due to poor trigger discipline. In this fic Miura shoots Tobe due to a misfire by the weapon itself. I like Miura too much to fault her, I'm so sorry Norinco fans.**

 **Matsudo is a real place in Chiba. Shimona Farms is made up.**

 **Otaku Uprising is a reference to the Beta Uprising meme. Reeeee.**

 **"Ladykiller (Figuratively) and Mankiller (For Real)" is part of The Spy's bio in Team Fortress 2.**


	2. Act 2

**Hey guys, another chapter has arrived. Also some of you may be wondering if some characters in this fic will met the same gruesome fates as their film counterparts. The answer is no, none of the girls will be hurt in this story, including Hiratsuka. I simply love their characters too much to actually hurt them. Without further ado, here is chapter 2. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Act 2**

 **Dead Riajuu Storage**

The sound of running water always had such a calming effect on Hachiman, reminding him of a breathtaking waterfall or the sea spray that plagued his dreams with childhood nostalgia. Lucky for him there was no shortage of that familiar sound as the two of them shared a tap in Zaimoukuza's bathroom, the pinkish water draining down the sink much like he'd imagine their problems would. Deep down he knew things weren't over until they disposed of the dead body properly but he let himself have a moment of peace and clarity. It wasn't healthy for one to stress over things that had already happened, you'd end up as one of those pessimistic loners who was negative about everything. Wait a minute, that sounded really familiar for some reason. Ah well, better to focus on the task at hand.

"We gotta be real delicate about Zaimoukuza's situation." he started, scrubbing in between his fingers and under his nails to make sure none of the blood still stuck to him. The hands would be one of the first places a cop would look at when investigating. "He's one remark from kicking our asses out the door."

"If he does, what do we do?" Miura took his place at the sink and started lathering her delicate hands with the pink hand soap, taking great care not to damage her recently manicured nails.

"We're not leaving until we make a couple of calls, but I don't want it to reach that pitch - Zaimoukuza's a friend. You don't come into you friend's house and start telling him what's what."

Grabbing a nearby towel and began drying his hands off, he took a moment to appreciate the anime design on it before rolling his eyes and continuing.  
"Just tell him not to be abusive. He kinda freaked out back there when he saw Tobe." The girl shut off the tap with a still slightly bloodstained finger, grabbing a towel of her own off a nearby rack and started to dry her hands.

"Put yourself in his position - It's eight o'clock in the morning, he just woke up. He wasn't expecting this shit. We gotta remember who's doing who a favor." Hachiman started to smooth his towel out and folded it neatly before returning it to the rack. Any small thing out of place could already trigger the already furious Zaimoukuza and he wanted to prevent that at all costs. The Otaku could go on for hours ranting on inane topics already; he didn't want to find out what sorts of grandiose speeches he could pull out of his ass when he was really upset.

"If that favor means I gotta take shit, he can stick that favor straight up his ass, I don't care." Miura stated irritably, her tone clear that she didn't like the Otaku very much. Hachiman remembered how shocked she had been to find out Zaimoukuza was his previous partner. He might be a weirdo but he was also a crack shot with a rifle, capable of pulling off some seriously outstanding shots. In the words of Hiratsuka herself, it looks like he finally found something that he does well. The teacher always had a talent for spotting the potential in others, whether it be in academia or in other fields.

Moving on, he turned back around to face his current partner only to find her holding a crumpled red rag instead of a pristine white towel patterned with anime girls.

"Fuck, Miura, what the fuck did you do to the towel, man?" He cried in distress. Magical-Girl Meguca-chan's normally cute face was now covered in dead riajuu blood, her crumpled visage only amplifying the morbid juxtaposition of one of the anime characters he'd actually bothered to remember. That was his sister's favorite anime, dammit. He had bought the DVD-Blue-ray Collectors edition for her when it first released. Now anytime he would see the character it would remind him of a bloody towel instead of love and peace. He snatched the towel from her in a desperate attempt to salvage it. Hold on Meguca, I'll save you!

"I was just drying my hands!"

"You're supposed to wash 'em first!"

"You watched me wash 'em."

"I watched 'em getting wet." Okay maybe that wasn't the best line to say, he thought. It almost sounded like some sleazy line if his mind was dirty enough. Luckily Miura hadn't noticed and carried on as usual.

"I was washing them. This shit's hard to get off!" The blonde complained, gesturing to the still bloodstained sink. "Maybe if he had Shokubutsu I coulda done a better job."

"I used the same fuckin' soap you did, and when I when I finished the towel didn't look like no goddamn maxi-pad!" The girl gave him a disgusted look at that little comment and grumbled under her breath, clearly unhappy with being scolded by him. Again. "What if he was to come in here and see his towel like this, Miura? It's shit like this that's gonna bring this situation to a head, man!"

For all he knew Meguca-chan was Zaimoukuza's waifu. You don't mess with a man's waifu, especially when the same man could take your head off from two hundred meters with a handgun. Right now he just needed a safe zone, and call Hiratsuka to-

Hachiman's train of thought was interrupted by a loud sniff from his partner. He looked up to find the girl staring at the ground as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing she'd come across all day, her small fists clenched tightly. She did look rather cute with that pout on her face, he thought. Much like a kid who had their favorite toy confiscated. No wait, he was supposed to be angry at her-

And then she glared right at him, cute pout still etched on her face while her emerald eyes glistened, tiny tears starting to form at their edges. Oh no. Oh nonono. Not you too, he thought. He couldn't stand it when his sister Komachi did that, and there was no way in hell he could withstand Miura either. He was really weak to girls crying over anything, be it happy or sad. They would always end up in this horrific blubbering and wailing mess and then he would have to calm them down by comforting them with a hug or something. And after that, his shoulder or chest would end up all wet with their tears and they'd stick to him so tightly he'd need a large crowbar to break them apart. He learnt from personal experience to stop the crying before it happened; halting the nuclear launch was better than cleaning up the fallout.

"Look, I'm not mad at you or anything alright?" Not anymore he wasn't. All the anger had simply drained out of him when he saw those pearls threatening to fall from her eyes. Cute girls crying already made him feel lower that dirt. A cute girl crying because of him? Unacceptable. Sighing, he decided to defuse the tension before anything significant could happen. "You know I respect you and all...but just don't put me in this position, alright?"

The sniffling, upset girl kept glaring at him, her tearful gaze seemingly piercing into his very heart and soul, making him feel as though all this was somehow his fault. What the hell, weren't they here because of her in the first place? Finally she relaxed and dabbed her eyes after what felt like an eon.  
"Alright. Fine, fine. Ask me nice like that, no problem." She harrumphed, looking away after she stuck out her tongue at him. What was she, five? "Just go handle your friend, I don't care."

Breathing out in reluctant acceptance, Hachiman cleaned the towel off the best he could before chucking it into the nearby laundry basket instead of putting it back on the rack. He'd tell Zaimoukuza about the towel after they finished cleaning up. Looking back to check on Miura he'd found the girl back to her normal frosty self, complete with trademark scowl. If he didn't know any better he would have thought she faked crying to get out of a tongue-lashing by him. That's what Komachi always did when she wanted something from him, that manipulative little fox. When they were young she had scammed him out of dozens of ice-cream cones using the same method.

[8]

The two gangsters stood in Zaimoukuza's kitchen, each cradling a nice warm cup of coffee in anime-themed cups. Looking down at his he noticed the words " **Magical-girl Meguca** " stenciled in flowery pink letters. That wasn't good. Miura's cup consisted of the lower half of an anime cat's face, which nearly made him do a spit-take when she brought it to her lips for sip. Taking a sip of his own, Hachiman found it to be remarkably fragrant- some unknown exotic blend that he'd never tasted before filled his mouth with a rich, luxurious flavor.

"Mmm! Goddamn, Zaimoukuza! This is some serious gourmet shit." He praised cheerfully, taking another swig of the warm ambrosia. It was nearly as good as MAX coffee, if he were to be honest with himself. Nothing beats MAX coffee, though. That stuff helped save his life once, but that's a story for another time. "Me and Miura would've been satisfied with some microwave-heated Georgia coffee, right? And he springs us this serious gourmet shit on us. What flavor is this?"

"Knock it off, Hachiman." Zaimoukuza stated plainly, an unimpressed look on his face. He wore a flashy red bedrobe that was covered in cute anime girls, complete with a t-shirt underneath that was emblazoned with the words " **Anime 4 Lyfe** " in bold blue letters.

"What?"

"I don't need you to tell me how fuckin' good my coffee is." he frowned, taking a long swig from his own cup before continuing. Hachiman absently noted that it proudly displayed the words " **Homu Squad WWA** " accompanied by several stencils of various firearms. A military-themed cup? Huh. At least the guy owned something that was considered relatively normal next to all his usual possessions.

"I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is." Zaimoukuza crowed, seemingly gloating about his taste in coffee. Oi, don't get too full of yourself - pride before the fall and all that. "When my mom goes shopping, she buys shit. I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it, I wanna taste it."

"Do you _see_ this color?" He continued, pointing at the nearly-empty coffeepot and then at the mug in his hand. "You _smell_ that aroma? It's Jamaica Blue Mountain. As the name suggests, it comes from the Blue Mountains in Jamaica. This 'fucking gourmet shit', as you put it, sells for 50 dollars a pound. Dollars, Hachiman! Not Yen. Usually I prepare just a tiny bit and drink it out of an equally tiny cup on special occasions. It calms me down, you see. But y'know today've already downed two mugs of this stuff while you were washing up. I think that serves to say how fucking calm I am right now... guess that this is a real special occasion, isn't it?"

Not sure how to respond, the two assassins simply stared at their fellow assassin blankly. One could never really understand what went through the Otaku's mind, both before and after he got hired by Hiratsuka. Again, he was one of those that took to his new job surprisingly well. Hachiman could attest to that on account of the jobs that they worked together on, Zaimoukuza performed exceptionally well especially considering he was only hired a few months after Hachiman.

"But you know what's on my mind right now?" Zaimoukuza challenged, and before either of them could answer he went on regardless. "It _ain't_ the coffee in my kitchen." He pointed a stubby finger at his cup for emphasis, before pointing the same finger out the window.

"It's the **dead riajuu** in my garage."

"Oh. Zaimoukuza, don't even worry about-"

"Whoa no no no, don't even think about anything." he interrupted, his expression growing more upset by the second. "I wanna ask you a question." The tubby teenager took another long swig as though his cup was filled alcohol. If it was, he'd be doing a pretty good impression of an man trying to drown himself in it.

"When you came pulling up in here," Zaimoukuza seethed, coffee cup threatening to spill over from all his excessive hand movement. "Did you notice a sign on the front of my house that said 'Dead Riajuu Storage'?"

"Zaimoukuza, you know I ain't seen no sign-"

"Did you notice a sign on the front of my house that said 'Dead Riajuu Storage'?" Zaimoukuza reiterated, much louder than before.

Hachiman pursed his lips and looked away. Time to prepare for the incoming explosion, he supposed. "No, I didn't."

"You know why you didn't see that sign?"

"Why?" Hachiman sighed, bracing for impact. Oh boy, here we go.

" **Cause it ain't there cause storing dead riajuu isn't my fucking business, that's why!** " Zaimoukuza bellowed, knuckles turning white from gripping his cup too hard.

Houston we have liftoff. The USS Zaimoukuza's Temper was through the roof and had successfully left the atmosphere. He was lucky Hiratsuka was paying him so much to handle all this nonsense. Yup, definitely taking a break after this. Maybe he'd go somewhere nice for a vacation, like Hawaii. That'd be real nice; exotic food, lovely weather, women the color of honey.

Miura glanced between the two with an odd expression on her face, a mix of amusement and annoyance fighting for dominance. As far as she was concerned, this was between the two men - she had stayed silent during the entire conversation, opting to let her partner handle things instead. Hachiman had warned her that Zaimoukuza wasn't very good at talking to people he didn't know well and had a penchant to shoot his problems to solve them ever since he learnt how to use a gun. Highly unlikely that he would hurt any of them but it never hurt to be safe.

Hachiman just felt that this was getting absurd. For one, Zaimoukuza had earned enough money the past month to buy five houses if he really wanted to. He also knew the guy wasn't good around dead bodies - that was why he had opted for marksman training for long-range eliminations in the first place, but he never expected him to be this freaked by a simple corpse. Dozens of times in their jobs together Hachiman had returned covered in blood or dragging some half-dead guy but Zaimoukuza had just looked away in disgust.

"Look Zaimoukuza, we're not gonna store the motherfucker-"

"Nonononononono- Don't you fuckin' realize that if my mom comes home and finds a dead body in her house, I'm gonna get evicted?" Zaimoukuza spat, now pacing around his kitchen's marble countertop while waving his free hand around like a lunatic. "No _'but mom I'm earning more that you because of that mysterious job I refuse to tell you about'_. No ' _but mom I'm already paying more bills than you are_ '."

Ah, so that was why he was so freaked out about having a corpse in his house. Zaimoukuza stopped to take a few deep breaths, showing the two that he clearly needed more excercise. What kind of Hitman gets tired from just yelling a bit? The Zaimoukuza kind, it seems. Imagine that, getting killed by a tubby assassin. Hachiman distinctively recalled one of the Otaku's targets could have survived if he had just ran fast and far enough. Zaimoukuza gave up chasing him after awhile and ended up just shooting the poor bastard in the back while he ran and calling it a day.

"I'm gonna get kicked out of my house, Hachiman!" he howled, coffee completely drained from his cup after one final swig. "Okay? and I don't want to get fucking evicted!"

Zaimoukuza tried taking another drink from his empty cup, only to taste nothing but air. Grimacing, he overturned the vessel and sighed in defeat. Hachiman knew that feeling. An empty coffeecup was like a hole in the heart, a void that could only be filled with one thing: more coffee.

"Man, you know, fuck." The Otaku slurred, reaching for the pot to prepare a fresh brew. "I wanna help you, but I don't wanna lose my home doin' it alright?"

"Zaimoukuza, you're not going to get evicted just becau-"

"Don't Fuckin' "Zaimoukuza" me, Hachiman!" he cried, an accusing finger pointed in the pair's direction. "Okay? Don't fuckin' "Zaimoukuza" me. Come on man, why do you keep doing to us? Maybe you hate yourself, maybe you think messing with me is funny, I-I don't know."

The pair had nothing to say as they exchanged glances, shrugging. Both teenagers downed their respective beverages in an awkward silence, the bubbling of boiling water blending into the background noise.

"Now look, she comes home from work in about an hour and a half." Zaimoukuza began, reaching to turn off the kettle. "The graveyard shift at the hospital."

Steam rose from the pot as boiled water mixed with blended beans, permeating the kitchen with a distinct fragrance. "You gotta make some phone calls? You gotta call some people? Well then do it, and then get the fuck out of my house before she gets here."

"That's cool. We don't wanna fuck your shit up. All I wanna do is call my people and get 'em to bring us in, that's all."

"You don't wanna - You're fucking my shit up right now! You're gonna fuck my shit up big time if my Mom comes home." Zaimoukuza pinched the bridge of his nose, looking nauseous. "Just do me that favor, alright? The phone is in my living room: I'd suggest you get going."

[8]

"Well, say she comes home," Hiratsuka hummed. "What do you think she'll do?"

The teacher was currently relaxing by her mansion's poolside in nothing but a black bikini and sunglasses, cellphone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She reclined back on her plush chair, currently ignoring the half-finished plate of scrambled eggs in front of her in favor of talking to her favorite little employee.

"She'll probably freak out big time, Sensei."

"Well no fuckin' shit she'll freak. That ain't no kinda answer." She replied coolly, dabbing the edges of her mouth with a clean napkin. "I mean you know, I don't. How much? A lot or a little?"

"You've got to appreciate what an explosive element this situation is." Hachiman groaned, pacing around Zaimoukuza's living room restlessly. "She comes home from a hard day's work, finds a bunch of gangsters in her kitchen doing a bunch of gangster shit, there ain't no tellin' what she's liable to do."

"Yeah, I grasp that, Hikigaya. All I'm doing is contemplating the ifs." The buxom woman was soon joined by a girly-looking boy to which she sent a curt nod, motioning for him to sit down. When the boy tilted his head curiously, she merely reacted by mouthing the words ' **Hikigaya, working** '. The boy's eyes lit up in excitement upon realizing who was on the other end.

"I don't want to hear about no motherfuckin' ifs!" Hachiman exclaimed on the other end. "All I wanna hear from you is, 'You ain't got no problem, Hikigaya. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill those idiots out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly'."

"You ain't got no problem, Hikigaya. I'm on the motherfucker." Hiratsuka repeated lazily, amusement creeping into her voice. "Go back in there, chill those idiots out and wait for the White Wolf, which should be coming directly."

There was a few seconds of silence as Hachiman paused to register what she'd just said. "You're sending the Wolf?" He asked expectantly.

"Oh, you feel better, boya?" She grinned, imagining the look on his face.

"Shit, Sensei. That's all you had to say." the Assassin approved, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "Oh and say hi to Totsuka for me."

Hiratsuka chuckled, ending the call and grabbed another spoonful of eggs off her plate. "Hikigaya says hi." She stated, to which Totsuka replied with a billion-watt smile.

[8]

 **[Meanwhile, in a dimly-lit bar...]**

"She the hysterical type? When is she due?" The platinum blonde paused to take a drag from her cigarette. "Mmm-hmm. Give me the principals' names again."

The scratching of pen on paper only added atmosphere to the quaint little bar, smoke drifting across the words every few seconds. A tinny electronic voice buzzed from the cellphone on her shoulder.

"Hikigaya..." She added the words ' **Handsome** ' in pink letters next to his name on the notebook.  
"And Miura...those two huh." To Miura's name she added the words ' **Rude** ' in red ink. "Zaimoukuza-san's place? Give me the address." Humming in thought, she scribbled down the words ' **Weirdo** ' next to the otaku's name.

Satisfied, the female fatale snapped the notebook shut and glanced at her watch. "It's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten."

 **[Nine minutes thirty-seven seconds later...]**

The roar of an engine could be heard as a silver Porche sped down the street, accompained by the screech of brakes as the vehicle came to a quick stop.

The sound of a doorbell ringing broke the three out of their stupor. Zaimoukuza opened the door to find an intimidating-looking woman dressed in a suit, silvery hair tied neatly into a ponytail.

"You're… Zaimoukuza-san, right? This is your house?" She asked.

"It sure is." The highschooler answered, glancing at the sports car parked in his driveway.

"I'm Kawasaki Saki. I solve problems." She offered a handshake, but Zaimoukuza simply looked at her hand as if it was coated in poison.

"Uhh… we're in the same class at school, Kawasaki-san."

Kawasaki simply blinked and shrugged. "Huh. I've never noticed."  
Ignoring the Otaku, she strode into the house casually, a warm, confident smile forming on her features as soon as she saw Hachiman. Kawasaki Saki, The White Wolf. Aptly named because of her lone-wolf lifestyle and flowing silver hair. Everything he knew about Kawasaki told him she was dangerous - she was the first of Hiratsuka's first employees and also one of the most proficient at her job. He'd only worked with her a few times but remembered her clean efficiency and ruthlessness well.

"Hikigaya-kun. Always a pleasure to see you again." She purred, amethyst eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Hachiman nodded nervously, unsure of how to respond. "Likewise." He said nervously, feeling his body making an attempt to step back. Frankly, he didn't understand why she was being so friendly with him. Did Hiratsuka ask her to keep an eye on him or something? Or maybe he owed her some money. Her upturned lips only got higher as she advanced towards him, before noticing his partner giving her a death stare.

"Hello, Yumiko-san. How have you been?" Ah, there goes her smile, Hachiman noted. Kawasaki's expression turned back into her usual frosty, deadpan look.

"As you can see, I'm doing just fine." Miura said slowly through clenched teeth. The blood on her clothes and hair helped emphasize her 'fine' image, to which Kawasaki frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"Anyways, let's get down to brass tacks, ladies." Kawasaki clapped her hands together calmly. "If I was informed correctly, the clock is ticking. Is that right, Zaimoukuza-san?"

"Uh, one hundred percent." Zaimoukuza replied nervously, shooting a glance at his wall clock.

"Your mom comes home at 9.30 in the a.m, is that correct?"

"Uh-huh."

"I was led to believe if she comes home and finds us here, she wouldn't appreciate it none too much."

"She wouldn't at that, ma'am."

"That gives us 40 minutes to get the hell outta here." Kawasaki checked her watch, humming before she turned to the bloodstained pair. "Which, if you do what I say, when I say it, should be plenty. Now, you've got a corpse in a car, minus a head, in the garage. Take me to it."

[8]

Four people surrounded the vehicle but only three kept silent, content to watch a master at work. Kawasaki leaned in and stuck her head in the car, taking a quick look and sighing after a few moments, disregarding the dead body in the back as part of the mess they had to clean up.

"Zaimoukuza-san?" She began, eyes still roaming the interior of the car.

"Uh-huh?"

"Do me a favor, will you? Thought I smelled some coffee back there. Would you make me a cup?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Zaimoukuza replied uneasily, a little fear in his voice. Judging from his reaction, he must have heard the legends. Kawasaki-san, you're an urban legend, a real life myth, Hachiman thought. "Oh, uh, um, how do you take it?"

"Lots of cream, lots of sugar." She replied without missing a beat, scanning the dried blood on the roof of the car.

"About the car, is there anything I need to know?" Kawasaki turned to face Hachiman, who used all of his willpower not to back away. Up close not only was she intimidating, she was what he would call beautiful as well. Stunning, even. He never thought he'd be able to even talk to a cool beauty like her. "Does it stall? Does it smoke? Does it make a lot of noise? Is there gas in it?"

Hachiman mentally slapped himself. Now wasn't the time to be ogling her, no matter how pretty she was or if her sparkling eyes and moist lips made his heartbeat quicken. Surely that was a symptom of fear or something. He should admire her for her professional attitude and expertise, not just her looks. She was being extremely professional right now and he should be extending the same courtesy to her. Dammit hormones!

"Aside from how it looks, the car's cool."

"Positive? Don't get me on the road and I find out the brake lights don't work."

"As far as I know, the car's tip-top."

"Good enough." Kawasaki grunted, dusting her hands off. "Let's go back to the kitchen."

[8]

"Here you go, Kawasaki-san." Zaimoukuza passed her a new cup of coffee, this one bearing the words ' **Anime Pro** ' in bright red text.

"Thank you." Taking a quick sip, she paused and inspected the contents of her cup before giving Zaimoukuza a nod of approval. So she likes it too, huh, maybe I should get myself some of that blend Hachiman thought absentmindely. No wait, why was he thinking of buying something for someone else?

"Okay, first thing. You two; take the body, stick it in the trunk." She pointed to the pair, then to Zaimoukuza. "This looks to be a pretty domesticated house - That would lead me to believe you got cleaners and shit like that?"

"Yeah, under the sink."

"Good. Now what I need you two ladies to do is to take those cleaning products and clean the inside of the car - I'm talkin' fast, fast, fast." Kawasaki stated professionally, now fully immersed in her own element.

"You need to go in the backseat, scoop up all those little pieces of brain and skull." She instructed, rubbing her fingers together for emphasis. "Get it out of there. Wipe down the upholstery. Now when it comes to upholstery it doesn't need to be spic-and-span. You don't need to eat off it."

"Just give it a good once-over. What you really need to take care of are the really messy parts." She explained, continuing as if she were talking about cleaning the dishes. "The pools of blood that have collected, you gotta soak that shit up." Hachiman and Miura nodded, arms folded and listening intently. They could both see that she clearly had experience with cleaning up corpses. He wasn't sure if that made him more impressed or intimidated… perhaps a mix of both.

"Zaimoukuza-san, we need to raid your linen closet. I need blankets, I need comforters, quilts, bedspreads. The thicker the better, the darker the better. No whites. Can't use them." Zaimoukuza agreed dumbly in response, while she paced around his kitchen in thought. "We need to camouflage the interior of the car: we'll line the front seat and back seat and floorboards with quilts and blankets, so if a cop starts stickin' his big snout in the car, the subterfuge won't last, but at a glance the car will appear to be normal."

Kawasaki turned and gulped down her coffee, waving the two off. "Zaimoukuza-san, lead the way. Fellas, get to work."

"A 'please' would be nice." Miura added, to which Hachiman gave her a light nudge that she completely ignored. Uh-oh.

Kawasaki stopped in her tracks and turned to face them fully, a frown on her face.

"Come again?" She asked, her tone taking a dangerous edge. Hachiman felt a shiver go up his spine. He nudged Miura again, this time a little harder but she ignored him once more.

"I said, a 'please' would be nice." Miura restated, and her partner felt the urge to facepalm. Here we go again, he thought.

"Get it straight, buster." Kawasaki walked up to them, displeasure in her voice. "I'm not here to say please. I'm here to tell you what to do."

The two women glared at each other so hard Hachiman could pratically see thunderbolts sparking from their eyes and colliding. Why was it always women, he wondered. He glanced at Zaimoukuza and they shared a look before the Otaku shrugged as if to say 'Your problem, not mine'. Hachiman groaned as he recalled what he'd once read in a famous book: 'When women are involved, conflict is unavoidable'. Did all the women around him have this strange instinct to challenge each other for dominance or something? He thought that was a man thing. He also absentmindely wondered what was causing them to behave in such a manner. He once asked Zaimoukuza the same question once only to be called a clueless lucky bastard, along with receiving a punch to the face.

"And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess," Kawasaki hissed, eyes unblinking as she stared down her opponent. "You better fuckin' do it and do it quick."

Miura was just as unrelenting, refusing to back down from what Hachiman perceived she thought was a challenge. He wisely decided to refrain from interrupting the two deadly ladies unless they started to pull out weapons.

"I'm here to help." Kawasaki declared simply, taking another sip of coffee. "If my help's not appreciated, lotsa luck, ladies."

"No no no Kawasaki-san, it ain't like that, your help is definitely appreciated." Hachiman reassured, nudging Miura a third time even harder. Hopefully this time she got the message. He reinforced his message by giving her a pinch on the waist, to which she responded with by smacking the back of his head immediately.

"Kawasaki-san, listen, I don't mean disrespect, okay? I respect you." Miura started, tone still slightly bitter but finally conceding. Hachiman allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief. "I just don't like people barking orders at me."

Kawasaki narrowed her eyes, her mouth a thin line of discontent. "If I'm curt with you it's because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you guys to act fast if you wanna get out of this." Her eyes relaxed, but she still held a small frown upon her face as she addressed them professionally. "So pretty please, with sugar on top; clean the fucking car."

Her eyes lingered on the two for a little longer before she turned and walked away, fishing a cellphone out of her suit pocket. Hachiman and Miura were left standing there in silence as they both processed what to do next. The teenager gave his partner a deadpan expression, arms folded as he waited for a nonexistent explanation.

"Don't be looking at me like that, alright? I can feel your look." Miura snorted, making her way to the garage. Hachiman just sighed and rolled his eyes. Another day, another story.

[8]

"Oh man," Hachiman grumbled, a chunk of gray matter sticking to his fingers like glue as he picked it off the roof of the car. "I will never forget this incident, definitely one for the campfire. This is some fucked-up, repugnant shit."

"Hikio, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits he is wrong he is immediately forgiven for all wrongdoings?" Miura replied, scrubbing the front seats while her partner suffered in the back.

"Get the fuck out my face with that shit." he retorted, gathering another piece of bone into a plastic bag. "The guy who said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on the account of your dumb ass."

"I got a threshold, Hikio, I got a threshold for the abuse that I will take." Miura shot back, annoyed. "Right now I'm a fuckin' race car, and you got me in the red. I'm just sayin' it's fuckin' dangerous to have a race car in the fuckin' red. That's all. I could blow."

"Oh, you ready to blow?" Hachiman sputtered, looking up at her with yet another piece of Tobe in his hands. This girl was unbelievable sometimes. Like right now.

"Yeah, I'm ready to blow." Miura snapped back, glaring daggers at him.

"Well I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker. Everytime my fingers touch brain, it's like I'm burning through the skies, yeah. I'm when a volcano meets a tornado." He ranted, waggling the little bit of brain he held in front of her face. "In fact, what the fuck am I doing in the back? You're the one who should be on brain detail! We're fuckin' switching. I'm washing the windows, and you're picking up this idiot's skull!"

[8]

Kawasaki tapped her chin thoughtfully, running her eyes over the now clean interior of the car. As per her instructions, the seats had been lined with thick quilts and blankets to cover them up, giving the illusion of a cosy backseat. Unfortunately Zaimoukuza only had anime designs so the car was now lined with cute anime girls in revealing swimwear. Hachiman felt like burying his face into his hands with how much he wanted to facepalm. Oh Komachi, forgive your dear brother for his sins - I couldn't save Meguca.

"Mmmm. It'll do." She grunted, finished with examining the vehicle. "Good job, ladies. You may get out of this yet."

"I can't believe this is the same car." Zaimoukuza blurted, circling around the car in awe.

"Well, let's not start celebrating yet." Kawasaki deflected, explaining that there was still work to do. "Phase one is complete: clean the car. Which moves us right along to phase two: clean you two."

The four gathered some needed supplies and headed out to the backyard surrounded by tall fences, assuring that nothing and nobody could be seen.

"Strip." Kawasaki commanded, not batting an eye.

"All the way?" Miura asked timidly, glancing at Hachiman. He did his absolute best not to look at her lest he get slapped.

"To your bare ass." Kawasaki replied, expressionless. "But first..."

Both Miura and Kawasaki glared venomously at Zaimoukuza, to which he reacted to by shrugging and turning around. "Whatever, I'm only interested in 2D women." he clarified as-a-matter-of-factly. "3D is pig disgusting."

"Cover your face with your hands and close your eyes too. And uh, go face the corner over there." The platinum blonde warned. "You try anything and I'll shoot you in the knees."

"Do I uh, have to turn around and cover my face with my hands too?" Hachiman asked nervously, trying very hard not to imagine what Miura looked like naked. Unfortunately, his imagination was doing a very good job.

"No, you just have to close your eyes for Yumiko-san's privacy." Kawasaki answered coolly, twirling the garden hose with a dextrous hand. "You open your eyes and I'll kick your ass."

"I-if you look I'm going to m-murder you in your sleep, Hikio!" Miura stuttered, her face turning a bright shade of cherry red. She awkwardly held her body tight, as if to guard herself from him. Oi, that hurt. He wasn't going to try something stupid like that. Did she think he was some kind of pervert?

"Quickly, ladies. We got about 15 minutes before Zaimoukuza's mom comes pulling into the driveway." Kawasaki prompted impatiently.

So they were free to look at him while he couldn't see anything? Well that was just lovely. In the end, he felt it was no big deal compared to some of the things he experienced first hand while on the job, such as falling though four stories. If he could do that then this was of little issue, it would be over in a matter of minutes. Hachiman felt a tiny bit disappointed with not being able to see Miura's delicious bare body, but he supposed it was for the best. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes and started to strip off his coat, followed by his dress shirt. Miura followed suit, turning to make sure he had his eyes closed when she just stopped and stared.

If his eyes had been open he would have bore witness to the two girls widening theirs the moment he started undoing his dress shirt. Training and eating with Hiratsuka and her goons had granted him with an exceptionally fit body for someone his age, hidden by the thick suit or loose clothes he always wore. He himself didn't really care about the aesthetic benefits and was more concerned about how his fitness affected his field performance.

His scarred chest and shoulders were wide with tough flesh, rippling with barely restrained power as he slowly peeled off his shirt. His arms consisted of bulging muscle, perfect for snuggling a woman tightly or for beating a grown man to death with his bare hands. Both girls felt their knees growing weaker by the minute as even more of his shirt came off. Under the fabric a near-perfect set of washboard abs was revealed, glistening with some sweat from all the hard work he'd put in cleaning the car. For a moment Kawasaki and Miura imagined what it would be like to lay on top of that meaty chest and those defined abs, those thick arms embracing them lovingly.

"Goddamn, this morning air is some chilly shit." Hachiman complained, stretching slightly and unconsciously flexing his body, much to the hidden delight of both females.

"A-are you sure this is absolutely necessary?" Miura stuttered, her eyes roaming over her partner's top half like she was committing it to memory. She probably was.

"You know what you two look like?" Kawasaki questioned, her tone calm but her gaze unfocused as she examined Hachiman hungrily, licking her lips like a jungle cat anticipating a meal.

"What?" The man in question asked, eyes still closed and oblivious to being the center of attention. The girls were practically getting a free show - many ladies would gladly pay good money for such good quality prime meat.

"Like a couple of guys who just blew off somebody's head." The veteran killer described, clearly still enjoying the show. "Stripping off those bloody rags is absolutely necessary. Just toss them onto the ground, we'll collect it later."

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say, Kawasaki-san." Hachiman complied, and started to unbuckle his belt. The sound of metal clinking and a zipper unzipping was pure exhilaration to the girls.

As his pants dropped, Miura held in a gasp while Kawasaki grinned lewdly, both girls very much loving what they saw. Miura's trembling legs were now shaking even harder, the girl threatening to collaspe onto her knees at any moment. She had only seen stuff like that on the internet but never in real life - her partner was much more well-endowed down there than she thought he would be, and he wasn't even excited yet. Inexplicably she wondered how big he would be when he was. A stray thought thundered through her mind like a flashbang: what if she _made_ him excited? She suddenly found it much harder to breathe and started taking deeper breaths as all sorts of wild thoughts began to form in her mind. This was so wrong, she thought, but felt so right. Dammit Hikio why do you have to be so sexy!

Meanwhile Kawasaki's face was flushed crimson, she too was breathing a little harder and visibly squirming, her legs crossed as she fidgeted on the spot. That was more than enough excitement for one day, or even a week. She made sure to roam her eyes over every inch of his body, burning the memory into her mind for later… appreciation. Yeah, that was it. Appreciation of the male body. A 100% educational, nothing wrong with that. She noted how his legs were taut with power as well, calves and thighs coiled with bands of muscle. Her eyes followed the lines of masculinity up to his ass, which was near-perfect in her opinion. The sweat on his body really outlined some of the more distinct muscle groups, much to her delight.

"Uhhhh guys? Why are you so quiet?" Hachiman asked, perplexed. His eyes were still closed while the girls had been staring for over a minute now.

"I dunno. I can't see shit, remember?" Zaimoukuza called from the corner, looking much like a victim of the Blair Witch.

"It's nothing." Kawasaki answered, controlling her voice to be as even as ever though her face told a very different story. "Here's the soap."

She walked over to the naked pair and passed a soap bar to Miura first, to which she graciously accepted. When she came over to Hachiman her heart started to beat faster, nervous in being so close to a naked guy for the first time. Her eyes couldn't help but flicker over to his nether regions every so often, gulping anxiously. "H-h-here." she stammered, placing the small soap bar into his waiting open hand. She felt a shiver go up her body when her hand grazed his by a little. It felt strange, but also a tiny bit exciting.

"Thanks." Hachiman coughed, feeling mighty embarassed himself. It's just work-related business, he thought. Just don't think about it, he told himself mentally. Don't think about how a beautiful naked girl is right next to you. Don't think about how another beautiful girl is right in front of you having a full view of your naked body. If he got a boner here who knew the horrible things they would do to him. He suddenly recalled that one film he had watched when he was younger. ' **I said we cut off your Johnson!** ' The words echoed in his mind. Yeah, not happening. Nope.

"Ahem." The veteran cleared her throat, getting back into her patented professional state of mind. "Alright, here it comes." Kawasaki announced.

"What comes-" the other girl began to ask, only to be blasted with a pray of water. "GYAAAAAA!"

"Goddamn! The water's fuckin' cold!" Hachiman yelled, shivering slightly.

"Better you than me, ladies." Kawasaki cackled, swapping targets every few seconds. She seemed to keep the water on the male assassin a little longer for some reason, much to his chagrin. "Don't be afraid of the soap, spread it around."

"So, er, Hikio..." Miura murmured, attempting to start a conversation to distract herself from any more inappropriate thoughts. "How did you get those scars on your back and chest?"

"Hm? Oh, those." He laughed. "Funny story, actually. I got these when I was thrown out of a four storey building and fell right into a glass greenhouse-"

As he was scrubbing himself down, Hachiman was unfortunate to do the one thing no man should ever do: **he dropped the soap.**

"Ah crap!" he cursed, feeling the small item slip out of his hands. "Miura, can you help me out here?"

"W-w-what do you need help with?" His partner blurted out, backing away slightly. What was up with her, he thought. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice even with his eyes closed. Maybe she was nervous about being naked? He was already keeping his eyes tightly shut to respect her privacy.

"I need you to tell me where I dropped my soap." He replied, staggering around blindly.

"Oh, is that it? Well, it's over here-" She began, walking closer to where he dropped it to help him pick it up.

"Here?" Hachiman asked, bending down to reach for it. Just as he did, his face came into contact with something amazingly soft and warm. "Eh? What's this?"

" **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!** " Miura screamed, her voice seemingly inches from his ears as his world exploded into stars and disorientation. In fact, that was exactly what was happening; he had bent down and planted his face firmly into her bare, naked breasts. Naturally, she reacted accordingly by panicking wildly.

"Hikio you pervert! Idiot! Lecher! Beast! Neanderthal!" She cried angrily, raining punches on him with her small fists at full force.

"Ouch, ow, hey!" he yelped, still not fully comprehending what happened and deafened by her eariler screaming into his ears. "Wha-what did I do wrong?!"

"Hachiman you dense motherfucker, you!" Zaimoukuza yelled from his corner. "I can't even see anything and I already know what happened!"

Kawasaki burst into laughter, her finger still on garden hose's trigger while the two fought. Well, it was more of Miura turning Hachiman into a punching bag. Unfortunately for him, the water jet from the hose pushed the errant bar of soap that caused all this in the first place into Hachiman's backpedaling path, causing him to slip on it a second time.

"Wha-!" he gasped, feeling his entire body tilt forward. Miura squeaked in panic as he fell right towards her; she had noticed his fall far too late to stop him, crashing them both onto the ground in a tangled heap.

"Ooooooh." The girl groaned, finding herself flat on her back with a strangely heavy weight on top of her. Opening her eyes, she was greeted with Hachiman's masculine visage only inches away from hers, his eyes still closed as he started to get up, his arms pushing against the ground above her shoulders and effectively pinning her against the ground. One of his muscular legs was draped between hers, she could feel each little movement from his thigh muscles brushing against her inner thighs. To top it all off, something large and warm was gently pressed against her stomach, dangerously near a certain sacred part of her body.

"Damn, Miura, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" He asked, concern for her clear from his voice. She hadn't noticed his concern on the account that she was currently paralyzed with embarrassment.

"Wha-wha-wh-wha-wh-wha-" she repeated like a broken record, her entire face red as a fresh tomato. Nearby, Kawasaki looked on with shock and a fair bit of jealousy, the garden hose forgotten as it clattered to the ground. The jet of water arced up before raining down on the pair gently, creating a calm, romantic atmosphere like those corny romance movies that girls loved to watch.

"Miura? You okay?" Hachiman echoed, still worried for his companion. "Don't tell me I accidentally knocked you out-"

Up close he seemed so…big. Of course she was talking about his chest and back, he practically eclipsed her like a blanket when directly on top of her.

He began opening his eyes ever so slowly to check on her condition, careful not to look too low lest he see something he wasn't supposed to. His eyes had opened a full half-centimeter when Miura regained her wits, her own eyes widening in alarm.

" **NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!** " She wailed pitifully, shielding her sizable bosom with one hand and delivering an armour-piercing slap to his cheek with the other.

"AUUUGGHHH!" Hachiman howled with pain, quickly getting off the girl. To add insult to injury, Kawasaki started to hose him down like a flea-ridden dog, a jet of water slamming into his face. "Grrbrrrbeggrbeeee!" He gurgled through the torrent of frosty torture. In the background, he could vaguely hear Kawasaki yelling about how he should have some consideration for a girl's feelings and not to rush things. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Dammit, women always brought nothing but trouble for him! He helps a woman out, and he gets thrown through a fourth storey window. He goes shopping with a woman, he carries 30 kilograms of stuff she bought. He drives with a woman, she shoots the guy in the backseat. Sometimes he wondered if the universe was screwing with him. Knowing his luck, maybe it was.

"I'm not…my heart isn't ready for that kind of thing yet." Miura sniffled, shooting a apologetic glance to her incapacitated partner.

"What thing...?" He groaned weakly, barely staying conscious thanks to the force of her slap. "Why me?"

"Yeah, yeah, show's over." Kawasaki chuckled, having ended the show herself. "Here, towels for you two. And some clothes and underwear from Zaimoukuza."

"What about me?" Miura asked, holding up a pair of boxers. "You can't possibly expect me to wear these."

"Those are for your partner. I thought this might happen, so I quickly grabbed a clean pair of mine before I left." Kawasaki offered. "Though I don't know if they would fit."

The platinum blonde glanced down at her counterpart's breasts, a spark of jealousy igniting within her own bosom before she snuffed it out. "Hmph! We're only a few sizes different."

[8]

"Alright, Zaimoukuza-san. You can turn around now." Kawasaki called. Zaimoukuza turned and promptly made his way to them, his face still covered and eyes closed as he stumbled and tripped into a nearby table.

Kawasaki rolled her eyes. "You can take your hands off your face and open your eyes too, they're done changing."

The moment he removed his stubby hands from his face, Zaimoukuza began to laugh uncontrollably. In front of him Hachiman stood dressed in shorts and a slightly oversized anime t-shirt, proudly stating the words " **NO WAIFU, NO LAIFU** " in bright orange text with the background framing a cute anime girl holding up a double peace sign. Miura was dressed similarly, her t-shirt bearing the words " **TOO KAWAII TO LIVE, TOO SUGOI TO DIE** " in pink letters, complete with a background depicting an anime girl committing a drive-by, stylized pistol firing out the window.

Upon noticing the red slap-mark on his previous partner's cheek, the tubby marksman started to laugh even harder, wheezing and choking with hilarity. Even Kawasaki couldn't help but chuckle, tiny giggles escaping from her girly frame.

"HAHAHAHAHA-" He roared, slapping himself on the knee. "Perfect!"

"Perfect," Kawasaki agreed, a wide grin on her features. "We couldn't have planned this any better. You guys look like-" she turned to ask Zaimoukuza for his opinion. "What do they look like, Zaimoukuza-san?"

"Otaku!" he smirked, giving Hachiman a thumbs up. "They look like a couple of Otaku."

Zaimoukuza erupted into another laughing fit and Kawasaki covered her mouth and looked away, visibly shaking from the laughter she was holding in. The newly declared Otaku pair simply glared at them with an unreadable expression.

"Ha-ha-ha. They're your clothes, motherfucker." Hachiman deadpanned, slightly annoyed. Miura simply refused to look at her partner, still not over their little bodily contact.

"Come on, ladies." Kawasaki called, wiping a tear from her eye. "We're laughing our way right into prison. Don't make me beg."

[8]

"Okay ladies, let's get our rules of the road straight." The veteran killer took out a clean hankerchief and started wiping her hands off, professional once more. "We're going to a place called 'Shimada Joe's Truck and Tow'. Now, Shimada-san and his daughter are sympathetic to our dilemma. The place is in North Matsudo, so a few twists and turns aside we'll be taking the North Highway."

She waited for the pair to nod in acknowledgement before continuing. "Now, I'll drive the tainted car. Hikigaya-kun, you ride with me. Yumiko-san, you'll follow in my Porche."  
Again, both assassins nodded carefully.

"Now, if we come across of any cops, nobody does a fuckin' thing until I do something." Kawasaki stated.

"Right."

"What did I say?" She questioned, testing them.

"Don't do shit unless."

"Unless what?"

"Unless you do it first."

"Spoken like a true prodigy." Kawasaki smiled. "How bout you, Yumiko-san? Can you keep your spurs from jingling and jangling?"

"The gun went off, I don't know why." Miura grumbled. "I'm cool, I promise you.

"Fair enough." she sniffed. "Now I drive real fuckin' fast, so try to keep up. And if I get my car back any different than I gave it, Shimada-san is going to be disposing of two bodies."

[8]

The scrapyard smelled of oil and rusting metal. Loud crunching and grinding noises were heard from within the buildings, adding to the unique atmosphere of the area. Hardly a place to dispose of a body, let alone bury someone. Still, he supposed that was why it would be the perfect place to get rid of a corpse. Rest in peace, Tobe - you will be missed. By our drug dealers.

"We cool?" Hachiman asked.

"Like it never happened." Kawasaki replied with a smirk, accompanied by a teenage redheaded girl on her way out. "Oh, and this is Shimada Yuriko. She's a friend of mine since we were kids."

"Hi!" Yuriko greeted cheerfully, apparently fine that they'd just dumped a dead guy at her house for disposal. Kids these days won't be fazed by anything, it seems. "So, what's with the outfits? You guys returned from a convention or something?"

He took back his previous statement immediately. Hachiman grimaced in emotional pain at that query, while Miura's right eye had started to twitch.

"We're going for breakfast. Maybe I could drop you two off." Kawasaki explained cheerfully. "Where you ladies headed?"

"To be honest, we're not really sure yet."

"It's- It's your future. I see a- a cab ride." the veteran joked, hands waving around an imaginary crystal ball.

Hachiman just gave her a deadpan look in response.

"Well, say goodbye, Yuriko. I'll see you guys around." Kawasaki nodded at the two. "Stay out of trouble, you crazy kids."

"Wait, Kawasaki-san. I just wanna tell you it was a real pleasure watching you work." Hachiman commented, sticking his hand out for a handshake which the veteran graciously accepted, lingering on his hand for just a bit to long before turning to Miura.

Miura sighed before sticking out her own hand, a genuine smile of gratitude on her face. Lord knows she's been through a lot today. "Yeah, really. And thank you very much, Kawasaki-san."

Kawasaki grasped Miura's hand and gave her a good, firm handshake, a genuine smile blooming on her cold features as well.

"Call me Saki." She laughed. "Oh, and Hikigaya-kun?"

She leaned close and tiptoed slightly to reach his ear. "I enjoyed that little show very, very much. I hope to see more of you in the future. See you around…Hachiman." She whispered, voice husky and predatory. He didn't know whether to feel aroused or afraid of that girl. Again, maybe a mix of both. Miura just gave the other girl a glare, to which she simply replied with a respectful nod, much to Miura's confusion.

The two girls began making their way over to the parked Porche, chatting like old friends do as they walked.

"You see that, Yuriko? Respect." Kawasaki clicked on her car keys, prompting the vehicle to let out a loud two-tone beep. "Respect for one's elder's show character."

"Saki, you're the same age as them. Also, I do have character!"

"Because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character." Saki answered, flicking out a pair of sunglasses. "Let's roll."

The Porche's engine roared as the two sped off, leaving trails of dust in their glorious wake. Hachiman and Miura were left standing there awkwardly in silence as the dust started to settle.

"…Wanna share a cab?" Hachiman tried, testing the waters to see if his partner was still angry. To be honest, he still wasn't very sure why she was upset in the first place.

"…I'd go for breakfast." Miura finally answered, giving him a tired look. "Feel like havin' breakfast with me?"

"Cool."

"Let's go to Saizeriya."

* * *

 **Omake (Canon): Miura's foot massage**

"So what'd she do? Fuck him?" Miura asked curiously, the soft rhythm of elevator music providing an almost serene atmosphere. It would have been serene if not for the fact that they were both headed to kill some people this very moment.

"No no no, nothing that bad." Hachiman answered offhandedly.

"Well, then what then?"

"She gave him a foot massage."

Miura blinked a few times before raising a questioning eyebrow. "A foot massage?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"That's it?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Then what'd Hiratsuka do?"

"Sent a couple of goons over to her place. They took her out on her patio." Hachiman pursed his lips, looking conflicted. "Threw her ass over the balcony. Bitch fell two stories."

"Did she croak?"

"Nah. Their goal was just to rough her up abit, not to kill her."

"Huh. Guess there is some good in that pit of Vipers after all."

The elevator dinged as it reached their desired floor and the two killers stepped out, matching shoes clicking against the corridor.

"But still, you play with matches, you're gonna get burned." Miura stated.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't be giving one of Hiratsuka Shizuka's boytoys a foot massage."

"You don't think she overreacted?"

"Well, the poor bastard probably didn't expect Hiratsuka to react the way she did, but she had to expect a reaction."

"It was a foot massage. A foot massage is nothing. I give my sister a foot massage everyday." Hachiman argued.

"It's laying your hands in a familiar way on Hiratsuka's boytoy. I mean, is it as bad as fucking him? No but it's the same ballpark."

"Whoa whoa whoa, stop right there. Fuckin' the guy and giving him a foot massage ain't even the same fucking thing."

"It's not. It's the same ballpark."

"Ain't no fuckin' ballpark either." Hachiman replied. "Now look - maybe your method of massage differs from mine. But touching the guy's feet and straight up fuckin' him is not the same ball park, it's not even the same league, it's not even the same fucking sport. Foot massages don't mean shit!"

"Have you ever given a foot massage?" Miura questioned dubiously.

"Don't be telling me about foot massage." Hachiman scoffed, a hint of pride shining through. "I'm the foot fuckin' master."

"You've given alot of them?"

"Shit yeah! Got my technique down and everything. I don't be tickling or nothing." He boasted.

Miura stepped closer, closing the distance between them and stared straight into his eyes intimately. "Have you given any of your partners a foot massage?" She asked huskily.

The silence between them lasted nearly 20 seconds before Hachiman realized she was playing with him and narrowed his eyes. He had fallen hook, line and sinker for her bait damn it. That sly, smug little harpy.

"Fuck you."

"You give 'em a lot?" Miura laughed, breaking into wild giggles.

"Fuck. You."

"You know, I'm kind of tired. I could use a foot massage myself." She teased, chuckling as they continued strolling down the corridor.

"You'll get one once we get home alright? Jeez."

"Wait, what?" She paused, a flush of red creeping up from her neck to her face. "That was a joke right? Hikio? Hey wait up!"

* * *

 **That's it for chapter 2, I hoped you liked it. If you did, please favorite or follow this story. All reviews are welcome, including anonymous and guest reviews. Every bit helps! Please give me feedback so I can improve upon both this story and my writing skills. Right now most of the dialogue is taken from Pulp Fiction so it's not actually very original.  
**

 **This chapter was 10k words, baby. Whew.**

 **Oh no, Hikio's HOT! Before you ask, he's all natty, brah. Fuckin' jacked, bruh. Ain't never touched no gear or nuthin'.**

 **Oh, and er, give me some feedback on the shower scene. What do you think, too lewd or not lewd enough? Note that I've never use the words [Penis] or [Dick] while writing that scene. Shows that you can make a scene lewd without the use of such words... hopefully. I don't even know if you guys will like it. It's funny how in movies if the guy takes off his shirt first it's really appealing to the ladies but if he takes of his pants first it kinda turns into a rapey situation.**

 **One last thing: There will be no NTR in this story so all you paranoid folks out there can rest easy. This is a humor story, remember.**

 **Additional notes/references:**

 **The line "something he finally does well" comes from the movie Full Metal Jacket. I kinda made Zaimoukuza a marksman cause he reminded me of Private Pyle. Pyle would have made a great marksman.**

 **Shokubutsu - A Japanese brand of soap. It's mild.**

 **Jamaica Blue Mountain - A real type of Coffee. I'm too poor to afford it.**

 **Magical Girl Meguca - Obviously a parody of Magica Madoka.**

 **Anime cups - Miura's anime cat mouth cup was based on a screenshot from the anime** ** _ **Wish Upon the Pleiades.**_ **The girls fly around on Subaru broomstaffs. Shit's wack, yo. Kawasaki's "Anime Pro" cup is based on the anime pro ms paint comic.** **

****The White Wolf - This is a nod to the original Film's "The Wolf" and Geralt of Rivia "The White Wolf".****

 ** **Hachiman's cleaning rant - The song lyrics he uses are from the song "Don't stop me now" and "Love the way you lie".****

 ** **3DPD - Three Dee Pig Disgusting, a common term once used by anime fans.****

 ** **Blair Witch - The Blair Witch makes her victims face a corner in the movie.****

 ** **I cut off your Johnson! - A famous line from the film "The Big Lebowski."****

 ** **Hachiman's scars - You should recognize Hachiman's "thrown off a building and into a greenhouse story" from the beginning of the film.****

 ** **Shimada Joe and Yuriko - I made these characters up. Only a Shimada can control da dragons.****

 ** **Next chapter: The Saizeriyan Incident. Stayed tuned for more Hikio and Miura!****


	3. Act 3

**Lo and behold, here is chapter 3. I admit, the previous chapter ended a little abruptly, I should have put more details into the final part. My apologies. Anyways, here you go, enjoy.**

* * *

 **Act 3**

 **The Saizeriyan Incident**

* * *

The interior of Saizeriya was a flurry of activity as waitresses rushed by taking orders from cranky customers, the occasional angry complaint resounding through the cosy atmosphere. It wasn't much of a surprise since it was a Saturday morning after all; blue-collared men and office drones waited impatiently for their breakfast to arrive before the morning shift started. He used to visit this place at least once a month when he was younger, their cheap meals attractive to any student or middle-class worker. 'When he was younger'. Hah. He had no right to feel mature, yet at the same time he felt old like an adult. He used to be a harmless, pessimistic highschooler. Now he was a dangerous, pessimistic highschooler who swore like a sailor. Hiratsuka's goons must have rubbed off on him when they were training him.

Hachiman looked around at the office drones around him and pitied them, having to even work on a weekend. He thought of them like ants in the backyard, milling about endlessly as slaves to a higher power beyond their reach. They would repeat this cycle for what- five, ten years? Again and again, over and over, the same breakfast at the same little diner; and endless cycle of repetition and work until they became too old to be useful. That there was the definition of insanity, doing the same things over and over again expecting something to change. Nothing ever changed unless you take matters into your own hands; he'd learnt that the hard way. The teenager sipped at his coffee thoughtfully, contemplating it's taste. Not bad for a free flow beverage.

Across him sat his partner Miura, the blonde enjoying her plate of bacon and eggs rather delightfully. She gobbled down another spoonful before eying him, still intent on talking about Kawasaki and her expert handling of the situation. To be honest, he was glad that the two ladies had sort-of reconciled in the end. She'd been hostile to the other girl at first but eventually warmed up to her after things had been settled, showing that she had matured from the bratty troublemaker he first met into a professional willing to compromise. A professional troublemaker, maybe. He snickered to himself, raising the mug to his lips. Miura had accomplished much, but she still had a long way to go in his opinion.

"I don't know why, I just thought she'd be more of a bitch or something." The girl reached for a cup, gulping down her share of morning coffee while mussing over her current attire.

She must have thought she looked absolutely ridiculous in that oversized anime shirt and short pants; the shirt was so big on her that it covered her shorts completely, making it look like she was wearing the shirt like a dress, with nothing underneath. Hachiman thought it looked rather endearing on her, in a little-sister-otaku type of way (Komachi wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like that). More than a few guys thought so too judging by the stares she got when they walked in. A threatening glare from Hachiman's snakelike eyes quickly convinced them to look away.

"She was being a professional, Miura. It's part of her job." He intoned tiredly, still thinking back on today's events. The day had barely started and they'd already gone through a bunch of felonies, assault and murder to name a few. To anyone else it would be one of the worst days in their lives. To him it was just Saturday. He tried not to think of what could happen on Sunday.

"I know that now." She raised her hand high, waving a waitress over for a coffee refill. "She's cool in my book. Totally cool, in control."

"Heh. She didn't even really get pissed when you were screwing with her; I was amazed." He chuckled darkly, thinking back on the few jobs he'd worked on together with the White Wolf. That girl could teach people to speak Japanese with a knife, scary stuff.

"Yeah, yeah, my bad. We made up in the end anyhow." Miura grumbled, muttering to herself before poking her fork forward, a small piece of meat stuck on it. She intended to feed him? He felt his heartbeat quicken imperceptibly at that but quickly calmed himself down. It was probably just normal friend behavior. Then again, he really wouldn't know since he never had many friends. "All's well that ends well. Now, want some bacon?"

"No, Thank you. I don't eat pork." Hachiman took another bite out of his chicken, savoring it's taste while she shrugged and popped the utensil into her own mouth. He actually did eat pork, but was too embarrassed to be hand-fed by a girl. Some lines couldn't be redrawn once crossed.

"Suit yourself. What, you like pigs or something?" She asked, curiosity evident in her eyes. Crap, now he had to come up with some stupid excuse to throw her off. Maybe something about Komachi hating pork so he'd learnt to avoid it as well? No, that sounded too siscon-like.

"Nah. I just don't like swine, that's all." He lied quickly, still munching down on breakfast.

"Why not?"

"Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals." Just like all the office drones and blue-collar slaves we see around us, he thought. Animals serving their own base instinct to survive, even shackling themselves down to some demeaning, backbreaking labor that slowly shattered their minds with boredom and apathy. He wisely left that little tidbit out before he launched into another one of his negative monologues.

"Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good." Miura objected, licking her lips hungrily as she cut herself another slice of meat.

"Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy creatures." He snorted, vision flicking to her glistening lips every so often. Why did women always have to be so unconsciously alluring… maybe it's a hormone thing since he was a healthy growing boy after all. Back on topic. "Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal." He continued, trying anything to distract himself from her aura. AT-Field, max output! "I ain't eating nothing that doesn't have enough sense to disregard it's own feces."

"What about a dog? Dog eats it's own feces." She countered, still munching away cheerfully. You shouldn't talk when you're eating Miura, even if it does make you look adorable, he thought absentmindedly.

"I don't eat dog either."

"Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?" Miura pestered, fork jabbing forward to steal a small piece of chicken right off his plate. Like he said before, this girl was unbelievable sometimes. He decided to ignore her little burglary in favor of her good mood.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy, but they're definitely dirty." Hachiman mused, thinking back to a time before he was hired by Hiratsuka.

Just before High School started, he had saved a small dog from being run over by a car by jumping in front of it, much to the owner's gratitude. Or at least, what he thought was her gratitude. He'd never even seen the poor dog's owner up close, only hearing from Komachi that she'd passed on a word of thanks and some sweets to him. Some thanks that was - He'd missed the chance to start anew in High School due to being hospitalized, which ended up in him being a loner once more.

"But a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way." The boy continued, still thinking back on the tiny brown dog. A Dachshund, if memory served him well. He could still remember it's small tongue licking away at him as he faded away into unconsciousness, no doubt in an attempt to wake him or show gratitude. Or it could just be licking him for fun, who knows. He owned a cat at home, not a dog. Kamakura never did show any gratitude despite the years he'd taken care of him.

"Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?" Miura questioned playfully, visibly enjoying herself now that she had sampled every dish on their table.

"Well," he laughed, smiling back at her. "We'd have to be talking about one charming pig."

The pair started to laugh softly, Miura giggling like the schoolgirl that she was while her partner chuckled uncharacteristically, genuinely enjoying himself. Most of the time he was pessimistic as hell, but that didn't mean he couldn't cough up a laugh or two. "I mean, he'd have to be ten times more charming than our Prime Minister." Hachiman joked, prompting the girl to tremble from holding back her laughter.

"Oh man, that's good." The blonde beamed, still laughing musically. "You're starting to lighten up. You've been sitting there, all serious and shit."

"I've just been sitting here thinking." Another sip of coffee. The plate was almost empty now since Miura had continued to steal tiny pieces of his breakfast after seeing he didn't stop her the first time. She was playing with him, the smug little snake.

"About what?"

"About today. It's been a long day, and it's only the morning."

His partner suddenly went silent at that, looking down at her own plate guiltily. She peeked up from her plate like a kid who was caught stealing candy at the store, quickly averting her eyes the moment they met with his.

"Hey… Hikio?"

"Mmmm?"

"I'm sorry." She murmured quietly, shrinking back into her seat. "For everything that happened today. I screwed up."

Hachiman took a moment to glance at her, still eating his breakfast slowly as he did. The playful girl before him suddenly seemed so small, as if she was expecting him to scold her like an angry parent would do to their child. Hah, he did feel like a parent sometimes taking care of her.

He twirled the fork in between his fingers lazily, thinking of what to say. Eventually he gave up after a few seconds and sighed, deciding to tell it straight from his heart.

"Miura, don't worry about it. Everyone makes mistakes. Hell, when I first started out I made tons of mistakes." He consoled, offering her a helpful smile.

"But I messed up big time. It's my fault." she argued, glancing up at him timidly. "That situation had the potential to blow up in our faces." Oi, where's the bratty troublemaker he knew? It made him want to hug her when she looked at him like that. No, no, brain- bad thoughts.

Hachiman hummed, downing another gulp of coffee. Alright, time to make a fool of himself. "You know what happened when I first started out? Tens of thousands of dollars in property damage. I could have been charged for Arson, Murder, and Vandalism if I got caught."

"Vandalism?" She blinked dubiously, now interested as she raised her head.

"I sort of blew up that big statue in downtown Chiba." He admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. "In my defense, no civilians got killed."

"That was you!?" Miura cried, eyes widening in amazement and nearly jumping from her seat before remembering where she was and lowering her voice to a whisper. "That was all over the national news!"

"I didn't know they gave me a thermite charge, okay? Hiratsuka seemed really happy with the overall result in the end. Something about marking our territory and making a statement." He whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping before continuing. "Anyways, the moral of the story is that sucking at something is the first step to being good at something. Look at me now, tons of missions accomplished. Shit happens from time to time, no biggie."

"So… you're not mad at me?" She tried cautiously.

"No, I'm not angry. I was at first, but that's just basic human reaction to an unfamiliar situation." He admitted. "I don't blame you for what happened."

Miura exhaled a tremendous breath of relief, sinking into her plush chair as the tension flowed out of her body. He'd wondered why she was so tense in the first place. It's not like he was going to punish or hate her for something like that. The blonde stayed like that for a few moments before bolting up suddenly, her back ramrod straight.

"But wait, what about what you said in the car? About you taking a break." she looked puzzled, confusion in her tone.

"Oh, that's still happening." He raised a hand at her before she could interrupt him, calming her down. "Don't worry, it has nothing to do with you. I just need some time to think about things, that's all."

"B-but then we wouldn't be able to... hang out and stuff." She mumbled, unable to find the right words. "Cuz y'know, Sensei said people might find it suspicious if we were suddenly such good friends and…I won't be able to talk to you."

"She never said we couldn't talk. We just won't be able to talk as much and act so familiar with each other." Hachiman explained, slowly sipping at his cooling coffee.

"But I like being familiar with you. I like hanging out with you. I like-" Miura whispered quietly under her breath, knowing that her voice was too soft for him to hear. She silently cursed herself for being such a coward when it came to her own feelings.

"Can you repeat that? I didn't quite hear you the first time." The boy asked obliviously, earning only a slight shake of the head.

"It's nothing." she murmured, seeming to wilt like a dying flower.

Hachiman wondered what she was so disappointed about; she had a ton of friends besides him, he was pretty sure some of them even worked for Hiratsuka before Miura had joined her crew. Frankly he didn't want to be seen with her for fear of tarnishing her reputation; one of the most beautiful girls in school hanging out with the creepy loner? Jealous White Knights would probably confront him, thinking that he was blackmailing her somehow. The last thing he wanted was for her to receive negative attention or have any nasty rumors destroying her image.

"Hey, cheer up. We can still meet on weekends and after school sometimes." He reassured confidently. "If anyone asks you can say you just happened to meet this weirdo-" He pointed to himself in mock pride. "-while out shopping and then walk away, that way people won't spread weird rumors about you."

Miura glared at him, eyes glinting with an unseen emotion. "What if I don't care what they say about me?"

"I care."

That simple statement derailed her train of thought, causing her thinking process to shut down as the words started to sink in. He cared so much about others but never about himself, the foolish idiot.

"It's for your own good." He began, stopping her before she could argue back. "These are the best years of your life, Miura. I'd rather you enjoy them."

"What about you? You don't seem to be enjoying yourself." She retorted, gauging his reaction.

"On the contrary, I am. Working with you has resulted in some of the most interesting and turbulent times of my life, today being a good example." He leaned forward, his steely gray gaze drilling right into her emerald eyes. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

The girl turned away and pouted, feeling the heat on her cheeks as a burning blush started to form. "I meant in class, you idiot."

"That can't be helped. Alas, I was born with these cold, dead eyes. My reputation is already devastated beyond repair." He proclaimed dramatically, theatrical flair in full motion. "Hiratsuka-sensei found a use for me. People used to look at me with disgust in their eyes, now I get to see fear as well. It's a welcome change."

"You're such a dork. What are you, an evil Villain?" Miura began to smirk despite herself. Her partner did have a knack of changing her mood when she was down. She often wondered if he did it subconsciously to make her feel better.

"I'm the Henchman, actually. Hiratsuka's the evil Villain, remember?" Hachiman joked, chuckling darkly.

The two laughed, sharing a genuine moment of mirth while surrounded by several depressed-looking office workers. It truly was a picture of the cruelty of youth. In a corner by the window unnoticed by the two killers, another pair of teenagers glanced their way in mild curiosity before returning to their own private conversation, the boy's hands gesturing about energetically as he explained something to his bubbly partner.

Miura raised her hand, her laughing finally subsiding after what seemed like an eternity to him. "Thank you." She smiled. "For caring about me. I appreciate it, I really do. But you shouldn't have to sacrifice yourself for someone else. You don't always have to be the fall guy."

"We're partners. It's part of my job to take care of you." He replied nonchalantly. "I'm not sacrificing anything."

He looked right at her, a flat expression on his face. "Only I can be responsible for my own happiness. So stop worrying about me and enjoy yourself already." Alright, that sounded way cooler in my head, he thought. Luckily she didn't seem to notice-

Miura stared at him blankly for a moment before bursting into another fit of giggles, a delicate hand over her mouth. Nope, she definitely noticed. "Did you think that was cool or something? You're such a nerd, Hikio!" She snickered.

He groaned and put his buried his face into his hands, attempting to hide his shame. His middle-school self would've been proud of such a smooth line. She would definitely remember that one, then she'd bring it up to mess with him whenever she felt like it. Hey, at least she wasn't moping around in a depressed state anymore.

"I'll tell you what." Miura smirked, still holding back a few giggles. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom to powder my nose. You sit here and think of something cooler to say."

Hachiman raised an eyebrow, feeling dubious. She wore makeup? Didn't look like it, all the times he'd seen her face up close she'd been all natural as far as he could tell. He was pretty sure there was some hidden meaning he didn't get but decided not to pursue his curiosity. As the old saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. "I'll do that."

"Hah." She laughed to herself, shaking her head. "To be continued."

He began wondering what was up with him lately, Miura wasn't his first female partner but he'd somehow felt a stronger need to take care of her than the other girls he'd worked with in the past. Maybe it was his big brother instinct kicking in to protect her since she'd always get into all sorts of trouble without him, but that still didn't explain why his heart started to flutter when he saw her radiant smile. Sure, he felt great when Komachi was happy but never to this extent.

As he relaxed and leaned back into his chair a quote from an old book he read long ago began to resurface in his mind. 'That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty you half fall in love with them and you never know where the hell you are. They can drive you crazy. They really can.'

No, he couldn't be… could he? The teenager closed his eyes and shook his head gently. No. Even if he was, he didn't deserve her. She should have someone better, better than him. He tried hard to convince himself that he wasn't falling in love with his partner and failed desperately, a small voice at the back of his mind confirming his fears. It told him that he, Hikigaya Hachiman, was in love with her, Yumiko Miura.

He quickly grabbed that stray thought and shoved it into the recesses of his mind, refusing to listen even as it screeched and rattled it's cage. That little fear of his had always been there, lurking just beneath his surface thoughts. It was there when they had first met and she'd called him gross. It was there when she'd first given him that stupid nickname. It was there when she'd helped him stop the bleeding on his leg. It was there when she shot Tobe by accident. It was there when they'd shared a shower together in Zaimoukuza's backyard.

 **The fear that he'd fallen for her was there every time she smiled at him.**

Hikigaya Hachiman was afraid of many things, but most of all he feared falling in love. For now he refused to accept it, but he already knew he'd have to face this little issue again one day. Now he just wanted a break to calm himself down and think about things.

He sipped at his cooling coffee as he waited, distracting himself by contemplating what to do with his well-deserved break from work. A week or two without the stresses of his insane job would do wonders for his mental state; things have been a bit too hectic as of late. That miracle they witnessed in the apartment had reminded him of how close to death he had been, he made a note to himself not to let his guard down so easily in the future.

The renowned professional stirred his beverage slowly, eyes closed in deep thought. The beast locked in the back of his mind screamed and swore. Maybe he should go out for lunch with Komachi or Mom. He could afford almost anything they wanted now that he had such a sizable paycheck, he could almost visualize the glee in his sister's expression as he spoiled her rotten, or his mother's grateful thanks as he bought her whatever she liked. Perhaps things were going his way after all.

Then the screaming started and he remembered the universe itself hated him.

[8]

A pair of plain clothed teenagers by the window had stood up, each brandishing a snub-nosed revolver while screaming out orders. Normally nobody would even believe that a couple of teenagers had somehow acquired guns, but rumors of Hiratsuka's teenaged killers had surfaced into households, reinforced by news of rising death tolls in the city. The two robbers here had probably taken advantage of these rumors for their own special brand of misdeeds.

"Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!"

"Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll execute every one of you motherfuckers! Dayone?!"

"You just be quiet over there! Waitresses on the floor!"

"Get on the floor, now!"

It wasn't before long when one of the customers started making their way towards the exits in a panic, only for the male teenager to grab them from the collar and slam the butt of his pistol to the back of their head. The victim collapsed like a broken doll, unconscious from the impact. Several workers screamed and ducked down in terror, not wanting to risk being attacked.

The second burglar, a girl, raised her own weapon and waved it around the family restaurant, making it clear what would happen if anyone tried doing something stupid. In the ensuing silence the click of her cocking the revolver's hammer sounded ominous and deadly, like an omen of death in the cosy little diner.

"Workers out of the kitchen!" The guy yelled, kicking the kitchen doors open and threatening the poor cooks. "Cellphones on the table! Anyone so much as so touches them they get a bullet for breakfast!"

The cooking staff were rushed out from their positions, forced into the ground by a rough shove and a malicious snarl. One look and anyone could see they were confused and terrified, not fully understanding what was happening as everything blurred by them in a flash.

"I-I'm the manager here, and there's no problem. No problem at all." An older man stood up, shaking at the knees in fear as he addressed the two criminals.

"You gonna give me a problem?" The boy marched up to him, hands waving about erratically until he jammed the barrel of his weapon against the manager's temple. "You'd better not."

He then proceeded to slam the obese man onto a nearby counter with a grunt, inflicting several screams into the nearby customer-hostages. Not bad, Hachiman thought. The guy knew when to invoke fear when he needed it. He needed a name for the thief though, guess he'll be called Jazzhands for now because of his crazy hand movements. Oi, oi, it's dangerous to wave around a loaded weapon like that.

"The restaurant's ours!" The robber's partner in crime cheered triumphantly, raising her arms in victory. Hachiman hadn't come up with a name for her but she looked oddly familiar to him, something about her that he just couldn't place. It was off the top of his head and on the tip of his tongue, he'd nearly got it until he was distracted by the thief speaking up again.

"You talk to the customers." Jazzhands sneered to the manager, gun still pressed firmly against the back of the poor man's head. "You tell them to be cool and everything will be over."

"Y-yes. Yes, okay." the manager panted, trembling.

"You understand me?!"

"Yes!"

The thief pulled the man to his feet, nudging him in the back firmly.

"Listen everybody. Be calm, c-cooperate, and this will all be over in a minute."

"Well done." With a rough shove, the hostage went tumbling down in a mess.

Jazzhands advanced towards the cash register, and with a quick password input from a nearby waitress he'd grabbed he ripped out the tray containing the money, dumping it into a large black garbage bag.

"All right, people! I'm gonna come around and collect your wallets and phones. You don't talk. You just throw them into the bag." He ordered, stepping up onto the counter to have a full view of the entire area. Unfortunately nobody outside was going to notice anything suspicious due to the placing of the restaurant, it was hidden in a little corner of the street. The thieves had taken this fact into consideration and planned accordingly.

"This is a robbery. That means that the demanding party, i.e, we-" Jazzhands gestured to his partner which flashed him an excited yet manic grin. "-lay claim to the opposing party's material belongings, be it bills of exchange, currency, technological devices, _et cetera, et cetera_. Did I list everything?"

"Sore aru!" The girl praised cheerfully, giving him a thumbs up of approval.

Hachiman raised an eyebrow, not sure if the guy was trying to be a good speaker or if he had some sort of mental issue that prevented him from making things simple. While the thief was busy monologuing he had taken the opportunity to draw his own pistol from his waistband, cocking the hammer back with a nearly unnoticeable click while keeping it under the table, his left hand raised in false surrender. Zaimoukuza once joked that wherever Hachiman went he was loaded and locked, ready to rock. It didn't see very funny at the time, and it definitely wasn't now.

"As such, failure to comply with transference of said belongings will result in physical assault leading to mutilation, crippling pain and agony towards the opposing party, and possible death by firearm. Do not try to run; I have six little friends and they can all run faster than you. Has this provided information clarified any doubts that anyone here might have?"

"Preach it!" The girl grinned, eyes sweeping the room.

The whole restaurant kept still, the silence only broken by some poor terrified soul sobbing away quietly. Upon accepting the silence as confirmation, Jazzhands nodded confidently to his partner. He then began to strut around the place like he owned it, collecting the patron's belongings while the other girl kept watch. Hachiman watched them silently, pistol at the ready. He just needed a good opportunity before he struck. It's times like these that he wondered where Miura was when he needed her.

"In the bag, would you kindly. In the bag." For a thief, Jazzhands was being awfully polite now that things had calmed down. Truth is stranger than fiction, he supposed. Hachiman began to ponder on what would drive two teenagers to rob a Saize of all places but then decided he didn't care.

Finally, the thief made his way to Hachiman's table, revolver pointed squarely at his forehead. At this distance, the professional killer could see the actual rounds loaded in and the make of the weapon, confirming it was the real thing and not some airsoft toy. He'd definitely have to have a little chat with the local arms dealer about who she was selling to after this.

"In the bag." Jazzhands demanded, voice flat.

Hachiman complied, slowly placing his wallet into the awaiting bag. He could probably kill the other boy right now but decided to keep things low profile since he also had the mysterious briefcase to take care of; Hiratsuka would have his head if he lost it. The money in his wallet was a small price to pay in exchange for keeping the case safe, it's contents were worth more than every wallet and phone in this place combined.

"What's in the case?" Jazzhands asked as he noticed it hidden in the corner. Dammit, this was exactly what he didn't want to happen. Again, the universe must hate him.

Thinking fast, Hachiman answered with the first thing that came to his mind. "My boss's dirty laundry."

"Your boss makes you do his laundry?"

"Her, actually. When she wants it clean." Great, now he seemed like a pervert in addition to an otaku.

"Well you're a real degenerate, aren't you." Jazzhands remarked coldly, smirking.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

The two males stared at each other, each daring the other to blink first.

"Open it."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

The thief paused, looking confused as he blinked owlishly.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes, you did." He answered with his cold, dead eyes, gaze unflinching.

"What's going on?" The girl asked, looking back hesitantly.

"Looks like we've got a vigilante in our midst."

"Shoot him in the face." She suggested helpfully.

Hachiman looked over their exchange, still looking calm as ever. He still remembered the initiation where Hiratsuka had pointed an empty gun at him, pulling the trigger and resulting in a loud click. The dead man's click. He'd nearly fainted from fear that day.

"I hate to shatter your ego, but this isn't the first time I've had a gun pointed at me."

"If you don't take your hand off that case, it'll be your last." Jazzhands threatened, his hands swaying a little.

"Stop causing us problems, you're gonna get us all killed! Give them what you got and get them out of here!" The manager called pitifully from his spot on the floor.

"Shut the fuck up, fat man! This ain't none of your goddamn business!" Hachiman spat, eyes still fixed on his adversary's face.

The girl backed up, adjusting her aim so that she had a clean shot on him as well. Great, now two guns were trained on him.

"Be cool, Honey Bunny, be cool." The thief reassured his partner, glancing back. What the hell kind of nickname is Honey Bunny, Hachiman wondered. Miura wouldn't be caught dead being called that by him. "No problem, I've got it under control."

Jazzhands turned back to face him, steadying his aim. "Now I'm gonna count to three. If you don't open that case, I'm gonna unload in your fucking face."

He cocked the hammer of his revolver back for emphasis, a click cutting through the space between the two. "We clear?"

Hachiman presented him with the same deadpan expression, unimpressed and unanswering. Sure he'd been terrified when first faced with a live weapon, but now it was little more than an everyday occurrence. Hell, Hiratsuka's arms dealers always messed with him by playing around with unloaded weapons every time he went there to buy something.

" **One.** " Ah, so Jazzhands finally started his countdown. What to do, what to do.

" **Two.** " It looks like Miura isn't coming back anytime soon. He'd have to settle this situation by himself.

" **Three-** "

"Okay, Jazzhands." Hachiman smiled calmly, faking his surrender. "You win. It's yours."

Slowly, he brought up the briefcase and laid it onto the table, a small thump marking it's entrance into the playing field.

"Open it." The thief demanded hastily.

He carefully unlocked and lifted the case open, the latches creaking ominously as he exposed it's contents to the bewildered thief.

Jazzhands stared, words failing him as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing with his own two eyes. It was clear from his expression he could hardly believe what he saw, the gun lowering slightly as the contents of the briefcase hypnotized him like a moth to a flame.

"Hey, what is it?" The girl, now dubbed Honey Bunny, asked from her position across a few tables. She seemed nervous at her partner's unresponsiveness, clearly seeing him mystified for the first time. "What is it?"

"...Is that what I think it is?" He whispered, voice trembling in awe.

"Mmmm-hmmmm."

"...It's beautiful." The thief's weapon lowered again by a fraction, pupils seeming to dilate as he continued to look into the case, awestruck by it's contents.

"Goddamn it, what is it?" Honey Bunny glanced around erratically, sweeping her sights over the still-cowering customers.

Hachiman _moved_ , snatching at the assailant's weapon and pulling him closer while bringing up his own pistol and shoving it under the boy's chin, all in one smooth motion. He twisted the thief's weapon so it pointed away, growling as he pressed cold gunmetal deep into warm flesh. The case was slammed shut by Jazzhand's impact with the table.

The girl reacted immediately, leaping onto a nearby table and screaming at him almost incoherently. Her shaking hands gripped the revolver tight as she tried to aim without hitting her partner, and the next few moments exploded into an incomprehensible cacophony as everyone began yelling at the top of their lungs.

[8]

"You let him go! You let him go! Let go of him or I'm gonna kill you!" she shrieked in panic.

"Tell that bitch to be cool." Hachiman snarled, staring straight into his victim's eyes. When no answer came, he pushed his weapon even deeper into the thief's skin.

"Say 'Bitch, be cool'!"

"Be cool, Honey Bunny!" Jazzhands yelled nervously, doing his best not to struggle.

"I'm gonna kill you so fucking bad-"

"Say 'Bitch, be cool'!"

"Be cool-"

"You're gonna die screaming you-"

"Tell that fucking bitch to chill!"

"Be cool, Honey Bunny!"

"-these bullets will punch through-"

" **Chill that fucking bitch out!** " Hachiman roared, now getting annoyed.

"Chill out, Honey Bunny!"

"Let go of him!"

"Chill!"

"Chill out, Honey Bunny!"

Only when the situation had calmed down moderately did he take the time to address the hostage again. "Now, tell her it's gonna be alright."

"It's gonna be alright." the thief repeated, dazed.

"Promise her!"

"I promise!"

"Tell her to chill!"

"Just chill out, Honey Bunny!"

"Now tell me her name." Hachiman commanded.

"Orimoto."

At the mention of her name Hachiman froze, the color nearly draining from his face. He couldn't possibly be that unlucky, could he? He took his eyes off Jazzhands for a quick look, and what he found was absolutely horrifying. It looks like the universe really, _really_ hated him. Now he remembered why her frizzy hair and strange mannerisms felt so familiar. The girl in question was none other than Orimoto Kaori, the girl who he had a crush on in middle school. The girl who had rejected him and indirectly caused him to be the laughingstock of the school.

 _The girl who turned him into a loner in the first place._

A tiny part of him screeched for him to kill the both of them right that instant, make them die screaming in horror. He quickly crushed that malicious little thought, the majority of him thinking that it would be immature, petty and unnecessary no matter how much she'd hurt him in the past. He wasn't that kind of person, and he never would be.

Luckily Orimoto hadn't recognized him at all throughout this whole fiasco, be it due to her adrenaline or panic. If she'd found out his identity and snitched he'd have some explaining to do. Either way, he thanked his lucky stars and God himself for whatever brought on this small fortune. He'd also figured it'd be safe for him to speak her last name here; Matsudo was a long way from Chiba and there'd probably be others sharing the same surname.

"All right now, Orimoto. We're not gonna do anything stupid, are we?" Hachiman tried hesitantly. Right now he didn't care much for using honorifics for someone who was pointing a gun at him.

"Don't you hurt him!" Wow, she must really like this guy to have this much dedication. He pushed down a small dose of resentment.

"Nobody's gonna hurt anybody." The gun relaxed slightly from pressing so much into the boy's chin. "We're all gonna be like Pan-san and friends here. And what's Pan-san like?"

Hachiman prayed that she'd get the reference to the famous Panda character or else he'd be in a world of awkwardness. Unsurprisingly, Orimoto didn't respond and instead opted to give him a bewildered look.

"Come on, Orimoto! What's Pan-san like?" He barked, still staring down at the trapped boy.

"H-he's cool?" Orimoto squeaked softly.

"What?"

"C-cool."

"Correctamundo!" Hachiman stated, feeling relieved he hadn't made a fool of himself. "That's what we're gonna be. We're gonna be cool."

"Now, Jazzhands-" The thief looked up expectantly. " _I'm_ gonna count to three. And when I count three, I want you to let go of your gun, put your palms flat on the table, and sit your ass down."

"And when you do it-" Hachiman warned, pushing up the gun slightly. "You do it cool. You ready?"

 **"One."**

 **"Two."**

 **"Three."**

To his credit, the numbskull didn't immediately reach for his gun and try to blow him away, not that he'd be fast enough to outgun the professional. Jazzhands slowly inched his way to the opposing seat, settling himself down slowly. Hachiman began to wonder if he should ask for his counterpart's name, but then decided again that he really, _really_ didn't care.

"Okay, n-now you let him go!" Orimoto cried out, desperation in her voice.

"Orimoto, I thought you were going to be cool." Hachiman retorted irritably, weapon still trained directly on her partner's head. "Now when you yell at me, it makes me nervous. When I get nervous, I get scared."

"When people get scared-" He began inching his hand towards her partner's face, the weapon slowly but surely closing the distance. "-that's when people accidentally get shot."

"Just know, you hurt him, you die." The girl rasped, panting slightly. Poor thing would start to hyperventilate at this rate.

"Well that seems to be the situation." Hachiman frowned, gun hand steady and unyielding. "But I don't want that. And you don't want that. And Jazzhands here definitely doesn't want that."

At the mention of his new given name, the thief gulped nervously.

"So let's see what we can do. Don't try anything, Jazzy." Hachiman assured, the unspoken threat clear in the air as his gun twitched ever so slightly. "Mine's bigger."

"Now…here's the situation." He began, leaning back. "Normally your asses would be dead as a doornail, but you happened to pull this shit while I'm in a transitional period and I don't wanna kill you; I wanna help you. I've killed enough people my age today."

"But I can't give you this case, 'cause it doesn't belong to me." Hachiman reached out a hand and dragged the briefcase back, shutting the latches gently. "Besides, I've been through too much shit over this case this morning to just hand it over to your dumb ass."

A blur of _yellow and white_ appeared at the corner of his eye, setting off all his alarm bells in an instant. Things never seemed to go his way, it seemed.

 **"Miura!"**

Orimoto spun to face the new threat from her position on the table, only to come face to face with a furious blonde, handgun at the ready and an enraged expression on her features. Yumiko Miura snarled angrily, clearly showing that she was ready to put a bullet right between the other girl's eyes for even daring to threaten her partner.

"Be cool!" Hachiman shouted, keeping an eye on Jazzhands in case he tried anything. Right now he really hoped Miura's weapon wouldn't misfire a second time. He should probably get her a new one as a gift or something. "Orimoto, it's cool. It's cool! We're still just talking."

That last part was meant for Miura as she shot an uncertain look at him, the two exchanging a silent glance. He wasn't sure if she was giving him her what-the-hell-are-you-doing look or her I-could-have-killed-her-easily-while-she-was-distracted-you-idiot look. He sincerely hoped it was the former.

Hachiman groaned internally, thinking of what he did to deserve this. First things first, he had to get that gun pointed away from Miura. No way was he going to let her get hurt because of his insolence in handling the situation.

"Come on, point the gun at me." He coaxed Orimoto, who looked confused and fearful of both him and his partner. "Point the gun at me. There you go."

"Now, Miura. You just hang back, and don't do a goddamn thing." The blonde bit her lip hesitantly but obeyed, backing away slightly but still keeping her gun trained squarely on the other girl.

"Tell her it's cool." he instructed, referring to the brunette.

"It's still cool, Honey Bunny."

"How we doing, baby?" Hachiman queried, smiling on the inside. He'd always wanted to say that to her during middle school and now he finally did it. Might as well say stuff he always wanted to say since its likely he'd never see her again. One more thing off the the bucket list. Hell of a situation to finally say it in, though.

"I-I'm scared." Orimoto whimpered, her hands shaking harder as time passed. "I wanna go home."

"Just hang in there, baby. I'm proud of you. And Jazzhands is proud of you. It's almost over. Tell her you're proud of her."

"I'm proud of you, Honey Bunny."

"I love you." The girl whined, looking as though she was about to cry.

"I love you too, Honey Bunny."

Hachiman felt another wave of resentment rise up but quickly quelled it, pushing it deep down. Lucky bastard. Damn Riajuus.

"Now, I want you to go in that bag and find my wallet." He instructed.

"Which one is it?"

"It's the one that says ' **Riajuu go explode** '."

The boy did as he was told, rummaging around until he found the correct wallet. True enough, the words 'Riajuu go explode' were stamped on the genuine leather in large, bold text.

"That's it. That's my anti-riajuu wallet. Open it up. Take out the money." He sat stunned for a moment before agreeing, slowly reaching it and taking out a large wad of cash.

"Count it."

The shuffling of paper notes was the only thing that broke the silence, the rest of the patrons watching nervously and still refusing to move.

"How much is there?"

"Around 15,0000 Yen."

"Okay, put it in your pocket. It's yours." The thief carefully placed the notes in his shirt pocket, looking extremely unsure of himself.

"Now, with the rest of those wallets and phones, along with the register, that makes this a pretty successful little score, huh?"

"Hikio, you give that fuckin' nimrod 15,0000 Yen and I'll shoot him on general principal." Miura warned, the look in her eyes telling him everything he needed to know. She probably thought he was being a damn idiot, giving away that much money.

Orimoto whirled, gun coming up to face her opponent. Miura growled, her steady grip tightening and finger poised to squeeze the trigger smartly-

"No, Orimoto! Orimoto! She ain't gonna do a goddamn, motherfucking thing! Miura, shut up!"

"Come on Orimoto. Stay with me, baby." Miura's expression darkened, eyes narrowing dangerously into slits. Okay, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. No more playing around with stupid nicknames.

"Now, I ain't giving it to him, Miura. I'm buying something for my money." He turned back to face the thief, his face a stony mask. "You wanna know what I'm buying, Jazzhands?"

"What?"

"Your life." Hachiman answered icily, his statement hammering a sort of finality into the other teen. "I'm giving you that money so I don't have to kill your ass."

"You see, when I was younger I used to have this idyllic view of life and love in general. That everything was going to be okay as long as you had a positive outlook. So when I found out how things really work in life starting in middle school I became this pessimistic, nihilistic bundle of negativity. A failure of a person with no purpose, no friends, no social skills, nothing."

The restaurant was silent save for the guy with a gun ranting, nobody daring to speak or move due to the Mexican standoff between the three.

"The one time I decided to help someone again it screwed me over, stole my chance to start afresh. But deep down I knew. I knew that this was just the type of person I am, will become, will be, no matter how much I wanted to change. These rotten eyes of mine see the truth. Did you know that Humans are social creatures? They instinctively band together to seek and help each other out, not because of some strange altruism in their hearts or desire to help their fellow man. It's because of fear. Fear of loneliness, of isolation, of being punished by a higher power, of being unaccepted by society."

Hachiman paused to take a breath while everyone looked on while displaying various emotions. Orimoto looked as frightened as ever, Jazzhands looked nervous but expectant, and Miura looked at him like he was out of his mind.

"The thing is, life works in strange ways. If a little incident on the road hadn't happened this morning I'd still have a rented car, and I'd probably have eaten breakfast with the lovely lady over there in a different Saizeriya. And you'd have robbed this place clean without a hitch. How do you feel about that? A string of complete and utter coincidences have led to this very moment, with me sitting across you. Nothing matters, you see. It's all just a random coincidence. I'm not the idealistic kid. I'm not the loner in middle school. Right now I'm just the guy pointing a gun in your face."

Orimoto's eyes widened at the mention of the words 'loner in middle school', as if she had come to some horrific realization. Miura noticed her little change in expression and aligned her sights, preparing for a clean shot to the head.

"And you know what this guy is thinking right now? I think we are just insects, we live a bit and then die and that's the lot. There's no mercy in things. There's nothing. I'll say it again: nothing matters. I could blow your damn head off right now and I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it. You die first, get it? Your little girlfriend might get me in a rush, but not before I turn your head into a canoe. Not to mention I have great faith in my partner's shooting, she'd put down your girl like a rabid dog before she can even twitch."

The thief stared ahead, looking as though he was talking the Grim Reaper.

"But that doesn't change what is right and wrong. Killing you might not matter to me but it does to you, to her, and even the customers here. I learnt that even If you don't care about yourself, there will always be people who do. People hurt each other from the moment they're born, it's our attachment to others that hurt them in the end. You can't love someone without hurting them in some way."

"I've had enough of hurting people for today. So here's my chance to change something for once, break the cycle of harm and do a little good. If there is nothing but what we make in this World… then let us make good."

Hachiman finally finished his rant and thumbed the hammer on his pistol forward, lowering it with deliberate slowness. The two boys stared at each other, one with an expression of fear and disbelief, the other holding his trademark deadpan look.

 **"Go."**

Quietly, Jazzhands stood up from his seat and gave Hachiman one final glance, a strange mix of gratitude, respect and understanding in his eyes. He made his way over to the still trembling Orimoto and coaxed her to come down from the table. As the terrified girl stepped down, she gave Hachiman a look filled with awe and fear, and he instantly knew that she had a rough idea of who he was. The killer gave her a dark expression that said everything that she needed to know. _You speak of this to anyone and I'll find you._ The shaking girl seemed to flinch and nod slowly, holding onto her partner for support as the pair exited the restaurant, content to live another day.

The customers still laid down on the floor, afraid to get up while Hachiman slowly sipped at the last of his coffee. It was cold and sweet, an odd reflection of how his life was at the moment. He finished up the remainders of his meal, placing the utensils neatly even as the waitresses peeked up at him with apprehension in their eyes.

Miura looked around and sighed, making her way up to him and checking to see if he'd been hurt in any way. Nodding in relief that he was in perfect condition, she leaned down and whispered into his ear gently.

"...I think it's time for us to leave, Hikio."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Hachiman grabbed the briefcase and together they strolled towards the doors like they owned the place, ignoring the various looks of fear, awe and respect that the huddled customers gave them. Upon reaching the exit they stopped to take a final glance at the restaurant, holstering their pistols in the waistbands of their shorts. He made sure that Miura had removed the magazine and emptied the chamber before keeping her weapon. She even had to raise up her shirt by a huge margin just to get the gun into her pants, looking as though she had raised up her dress.

Hachiman sighed, looking away out of respect for her privacy. One day he would come to terms about how he felt about her, just not now. A part of him wondered just how she felt about him and he shrugged it off nonchalantly, reasoning that she probably thought of him as nothing more than a friend. The pair walked through the double doors of Saizeriya calmly, the small bells positioned on the handles signaling their exit as they went on their way.

* * *

 **Omake: Hikki's Extended Family  
**

 **[Meanwhile in the main Oregairu universe...]**

A lazy evening with a cold can of MAX coffee. Hikigaya Hachiman sprawled on his couch lazily, favorite drink in hand, favorite TV show on air, and favorite little sister by his side. Well, his only sister, to be precise. One of her was already more than enough cuteness for him to handle.

"Ne, oniichan" Komachi began, her head still leaning on his shoulder as she snacked on a bag of potato chips. "Did you ever wonder what it would be like if we ever got another sibling?"

"No. I believe one of you already provides enough cuteness to light up my day. Any more and I'd suffer from an overdose." He stated simply, eyes seemingly glued to the screen when in reality he was checking her expressions when she wasn't looking. "Why, am I not good enough for you?"

The girl tapped her chin thoughtfully, before breaking into a cheerful grin. "Eh, I don't know. I can only take care of one oniichan, after all. All good things should be taken in moderation. Kya! I think that earned me a ton of Komachi points!"

"That you did, little sister of mine." Seriously, she was too adorable for words sometimes. Woe betide anyone who courts her, a thousand curses upon him. Now that he thought of it, didn't that one girl's brother go to the same class as Komachi? Kawasomething-san. Hmmm, he'd better go talk to her about it before somebody did something they'd might regret. He gently moved her head away from his shoulder and lay on his back, making some space. His effort was for naught when she proceeded to jump onto him playfully, closing the distance between them once more.

"Ehehehehe. Not much meat here. You should work out more, oniichan!" Komachi smiled, latching herself firmly onto him like a koala. Oi, oi, that's dangerous you know. Any other guy would take it as an ok for something completely unacceptable. You should be more cautious, Komachi!

"Ne, ne, oniichan! What if there was another little brother or sister then?" She asked coyly, still pressed flat on top of him while her legs waved back and forth lazily. Hachiman thought they looked like an Otter parent and child, lazing atop each other. "What would you think of that?"

"Hm? I'd love him or her as much as I love you now." He sighed, sinking further into the plush couch. This was seriously comfy; it was almost enough for him to fall asleep- wait a minute. Why was Komachi suddenly asking about all these questions.

His eyes snapped open, now fully alert and on the verge of panic. "Komachi," he began shakily, fearing for the worst. "What's up with all the questions? Did mom and dad-"

She stared at him, confused for a moment before breaking out into a fit of giggles. "Ewwwwww, no! Did you really think-" She planted her face into his chest, muffled laughter erupting from her every few seconds whilst he breathed a sigh of relief. "Hahahahaha! You should have seen the look on your face oniichan, you were white as a sheet!"

"Very funny." He deadpanned. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

"Oh, that's simple!" She wiped a tear from her eye, still smiling cheekily. "According to Daddy, we're gonna visit our Grandparents for their 85th anniversary next week during the holiday!"

"Komachi, we just celebrated their anniversary two months ago." He stated in confusion, eyebrows raised slightly. "We met cousin Tomoko and Tomoki, remember?" That certainly wasn't a memory he was going to forget anytime soon. Poor Tomoko, she was even more socially awkward and introverted than he was, something he didn't even think that was possible. Luckily they managed to smooth things out in the end and parted on good terms.

"No, silly!" She shook her head and leaned in closer to whisper into his ear with a conspiratorial tone. "I meant our other Grandparents."

Hachiman stopped, searching his memory thoroughly before realizing what she meant. "You mean Grandma and Grandpa from Dad's side of the family? Komachi, we haven't seen them in years."

"Which is why this is the perfect time to go see them again!" Komachi cheered, raising her arms triumphantly. "Or at least, that's what Daddy says. It'll be the first time where everyone will attend!"

"Everyone? The last time I saw any of my cousins I was Nine and you were Seven, I can barely even remember their names." He grunted, attempting to coax her off him gently whereas she stubbornly refused to budge.

"Ehhhhh~ Then what do you remember, oniichan? I'd thought those rotten fish eyes of yours supplied a surplus of healthy DHA to your brain. Or am I overestimating your intelligence?" His little sister teased, still cheerful as ever. Oi, Komachi. Your smile's getting so bright, I'll have to wear shades. "Ooooh, oooh! Flashback time! Me too!"

He slowly began to wrack his brains for childhood memories. Ah, childhood and the innocence of youth. It was before he realized youth was a lie perpetuated by society, a cruel mistress that robbed you of your happiness as you grew older. Some people couldn't wait to grow up, only to find themselves in a hellish dystonia nightmare of never-ending work and deadlines when they actually did. Such is life, harsh and unforgiving. But enough about that. Delving past his chunni and middle school nightmares, memories of playing in a field with two other boys began to resurface. He couldn't remember their faces or names, but what he did remember was…having fun. Something he'd hadn't felt in a very, very, long time.

Hachiman's dead fish eyes inched opened slowly to find Komachi staring back at him, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Well? Do you remember anything oniichan?" She questioned excitedly.

"Yeah. Me and two other guys playing catch in a field or something, I think one of them was older than the other. Everything's really fuzzy- I can't remember their names, or what they looked like."

"Hmmmm? Komachi remembers things differently!" She referred to herself in third person, sitting upright and folding her arms in thought. "I remember playing dolls with two girls, in a really big room!"

The older brother narrowed his eyes. "This better not be one of those 'childhood friends I thought were guys turned out to be girls all along' moments." He remarked stoically, the gaps between his eyes becoming razor thin.

"No no, oniichan. These girls were twins." Komachi rebutted, eyes still closed in deep thought. "Also, what's up with that 'childhood friend' assumption? You're watching too much otaku anime, oniichan. Gross. Minus 10 Komachi points."

"Auuugggh. Anything but that." he mocked, clutching at his head and sinking even further into the couch than humanly possible. She retaliated by sticking her tongue out at him and blowing a raspberry.

"Pfffft. You're gonna have to earn those points back again, or I'll repossess your entire being on account of you defaulting on payments." she giggled, rubbing her hands together greedily. "Komachi points make your world go round, oniichan. You'd best remember that, before I do some damage that you won't walk away from."

Hnggggg. The only damage she did was to his heart and blood sugar. Any more cuter or sweeter and he's going to have a heart attack. She was cute even when she was trying to be threatening, or at least pretending to. Komachi, you're a miracle of the universe.

"Aaaaaaanyways~" She handwaved, going back to their previous topic. "We're gonna visit them tomorrow! It'll be really far, so be sure to pack your bags early!"

"Wha- tomorrow? Right after school?" He sat up straighter, mentally checking his schedule.

"Of course! Tomorrow's Friday, then we'll arrive on Saturday!"

"What about my plans?" He tried, despite knowing that he didn't really have anything planned for the small holiday.

"What plans? Hahahahaha, you're such a joker, oniichan!" She chuckled and slapped him on the back, calling his bluff instantly. Ouch, it certainly shows that she knows him well enough as a person.

* * *

 **Well, that's it for chapter 3.**

 **Maybe the shower scene from the previous chapter was a bit cheesy. I did write that part at 3 in the morning, my bad.**

 **I tried tuning down the cursing in this chapter. Case in point, the anti-riajuu wallet. I would totally buy one of those. It's in genuine leather too!  
**

 **What's in the briefcase? Who knows? Maybe it's the Sobu High Exam Sheet Answers. Maybe it's Hiratsuka's nudes. Maybe it's the diamonds from _Reservoir Hikki._ It's whatever you want it to be.**

 **Poor Hikio, believing that he doesn't deserve to love someone, or have someone love him. The age old story of a man who sees himself as a monster.**

 **Don't touch Miura's Hikio, or she'll blast your head off.**

 **In case you haven't figure it out yet, Jazzhands is Tamanawa from the anime, he's the other school's student council president.**

 **The original draft had Hayato and Iroha rob the Saize, but I figured Tamanawa and Orimoto would fit in better. Dayone? Sore aru!**

 **I had to change the rant to something that would fit one of Hachiman's monologues. I'm not sure if I did a good job, it seemed a bit shoddy to me. I wanted to capture his pessimistic point of view, along with his nihilistic belief that nothing really matters. But then I also had to incorporate a sense that he remembered Miura cared about him, and when he saw how Orimoto cared for Tamanawa he realized it was a sort of reflection on his own relationship with his partner, that "there will always be someone who cares for you". That's one of the reasons why he spared him. Well, I tried my best to imply it. I'm not a very good writer.  
**

* * *

 **This omake was originally planned to be a standalone story named "Meet the Hikigayas", which would feature our favorite dead eyed protagonist and Komachi journeying to the faraway lands of Osaka, Japan, in order to meet their extended family. When they arrive there, surprise surprise; it turns out that nearly all of Hachiman's cousins have the same dead fish eyes! Also one of the two boys he played with in the past is revealed to be a cute tomboy. Hngggg. Hachiman would then go on a spiritual journey filled with family and friendship. How exciting!**

 **Also Cousin Tomoko is Tomoko from Watamote.**

 **Oh well, if people liked it enough I'll write that standalone story but for now I'll focus on this fic.**

* * *

 **Additional notes/references: There's not many this chapter.**

 **"I'll teach you to speak English with this knife!" - A line from the character Butcher Bill.**

 **AT-Field, Max Output! - The Absolute terror field from the anime "Evangelion".**

 **Pan-san is the panda plushie that Yui and Yukino like in the anime because it reminds them of Hachiman.**

 **There's also a line from the book "Catcher in the Rye" in Hachiman's rant. I didn't actually read the book, I'm an uneducated swine. From what I've heard, many people like to compare Hikki to the main character of the book, Holden Caulfield. Interesting parallels we have there.**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading! In the next chapter Hiratsuka's mysterious Arms Dealers will make an appearance. More Hiratsuka! More Oregairu characters! More Hikio and Miura! (Actually a little less Hikio, he's going on a break remember. The next chapter will be an interesting one, so to speak.)**

 **I'd also like some feedback on the cover image; do you think it'll be better with or without text? Hmmmm.**

 **As always, favorite or follow if you liked it! If you didn't, then don't! It's up to you. Leaving a review or feedback helps me greatly, many thanks to those who did. You guys are awesome! Yeah, leave a review or some feedback!  
**

 **Next chapter: Adrenaline Shot.**


	4. Act 4

**Wow, I'm still alive. Chapter rated PG for some scenes, viewer discretion is advised. Long chapter due to extra omakes.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for this fic itself.  
**

* * *

 **Act 4: Adrenaline Shot**

The walls of the empty, dingy little Bar were tinged a warm red, giving the place a warm and cosy atmosphere. Yukinoshita Yukino did not feel very warm nor cosy in her current predicament. She sat ramrod straight in the nice wicker chair, not moving a muscle while trying to keep her breathing as even as possible. Her graceful hands were clenched tightly on her lap, knuckles bone-white from her grip. To be honest, she was just waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.

Sitting across her was none other than Hiratsuka Shizuka, puffing away on a fat cigar. The underground crime boss of Chiba looked like a Shark that had taken human form- dangerous in a primal sort of way, predatory. The pearly-white grin she bore helped enhance the image, gleaming in the dark like a Cheshire Cat's smile. Lesser men would have broke in her mere presence- Yukinoshita opted to keep herself calm in an impressive display of willpower. Splayed on the table before them were sensitive documents, information that would lead to chaos and unrest if they were ever revealed to the general public. Information that someone involved in the National Diet was also involved in Yakuza-related business.

The Yukinoshita Patriarch, to be precise.

"I think you're gonna find… when all this shit is over and done-" Hiratsuka paused to breathe out a drag of her cigar, right into the younger girl's face. Yukinoshita did not budge, barely even blinking as she kept her gaze solemn, defiant. She couldn't afford to show any weakness, not now. Not ever. "I think you're gonna find yourself one smiling motherfucker."

The schoolgirl grit her teeth but kept her expression perfectly neutral, keeping silent for now. Hiratsuka went on, perhaps uncaring of what she thought. "The thing is, Yukinoshita- right now... you got ability. But painful as it may be, ability don't last."

Hiratsuka took another swig from her glass, swirling the ambrosia within and eying it lazily. "I see a lotta potential in you, girlie. Just like I had back in your first year- but you turned down my offer, didn't you? Consider this… a new proposition."

"What do you want?" Yukinoshita said slowly, her hands clenched tighter than ever. The teacher-crimeboss got her by the strings, and she knew it. Hook, line and sinker. Hiratsuka leaned in closer, her eyes piercing and focused despite the alcohol. It was like staring into pools of tar, empty and all-consuming.

"Same thing I wanted a year ago, Yukinoshita. I want you on my team." She said, her voice almost a whisper. "Join me, and the documents are all yours. You're free to do what you want with them- destroy them or use them, the choice is yours. These are the only copies in the world. This is your moment."

"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate." The girl answered flatly.

"Aren't you tired of living in your sister's shadow… under your mother's thumb? How did it feel, I wonder, to find out poor old daddy was the same?" The older woman crooned, her tone almost seductive, sultry and slithering into her ears. She was the Serpent in the Garden, whispering to Eve. "Controlled and manipulated by horrible little criminals just like me."

Yukinoshita's eyes narrowed into razor-thin lines. "Leave my family out of this."

"Think about it, Yukinoshita; join me and your father- no, your family, will be free from Yakuza influence. Is that really such a big price to pay… your safety for theirs?" Her former teacher leaned back, teeth glinting in the blood-red light. "The Hiratsuka-kai will guarantee their safety, I assure you."

"You're insane if you think I'll join your gang of thugs. Look around you- its like the city's gone mad. Violence in the street, rumors of kids with guns!"

"Kids are cruel, Yukinoshita. All people are, by nature- they just lose touch when they get older. Start thinking they know right and wrong. 'That's immoral!' Crimminal-this, Code of Conduct-that..." The woman's grin was now stretching ear to ear, a strange gleam in her eyes. A slow shiver crept up Yukinoshita's spine as she watched what became of the woman who she once called Sensei. How had things gotten so wrong? Somewhere along the line something had changed, twisted the once wonderful woman into this power-hungry psychopath. "Kids you can mold, manipulate into performing all kinds of atrocities."

"I'll repeat my previous statement: You're insane. You disgust me, and I'm ashamed I ever looked up to you as a person, let alone a teacher."

"Don't be like that, you're breaking my poor old heart. Like I said before, ability don't last. Gotta train them up when they're young, am I right? Besides, all of this is for the greater good."

"Greater good?" The schoolgirl could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Has all that alcohol made you delusional? The murder rate in Chiba is higher than ever, not to mention the other cities which-"

"In contrast to the crime rate, which is the lowest in history? My enforcers have literally stopped crime dead in its tracks, if you'll pardon the pun. We're doing a better job than anyone ever could. We're the ones building infrastructure, developing housing, fixing problems that the cops never could. " Hiratsuka spread her arms wide in a dramatic fashion, basking in her own glory. "You never understood what I did. Fifty of me and this Country would be alright. I took the trash out. **I did!** And I'd do it all over again."

The distance between them felt almost physical, punctuated with short puffs from the criminal's cigarette. "The country's GDP is rising higher than ever before, a greater increase than ever the post-war economic miracle; sky-high, baby! We're making Japan a better place. Side-effects won't last."

"And scaring the general public into submission is just a 'side-effect'? Don't give me that 'blood of the patriots' nonsense. What you're doing is a hostile takeover of Chiba; nothing more, nothing less." Yukinoshita said, her hands trembling now. "Just like your father and brothers of the Hiratsuka-kai in the other cities. You're a monster."

"A little fear never hurt anybody. We're changing the Country, kiddo. In fact, I think I should have done this long ago! Or would you rather have me stay as a teacher, teaching inane lessons about ' _cooperation_ ' and ' _friendship_ '? Hah!" A cackling laugh, followed by another puff of choking smoke.

"Maybe then you wouldn't have forgotten them." Yukinoshita growled, venom in her voice. That statement had hurt Hiratsuka, and she knew it. Her former teacher paused, and for a moment there was a minute flash of hurt in her eyes. When she blinked it was gone, replaced with a cold, silent fury.

"Tch. We can't make everyone happy, Yukinoshita. Some interests have to come first." She grinded the end of her cigar against the mahogany table, leaving a scorched stain on the fine wood. Just like the stain of her memory in the schoolgirl's mind. "You gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet."

Yukinoshita took a deep breath, then steeled herself. She looked right into her former mentor's eyes and gave her reply. "I'm sorry sensei… but I'll have to refuse your offer once again. I can't- I won't join you."

The two sat still in that single, tense moment until Hiratsuka broke the silence with a disappointed sigh. "Then you're just another egg."

Yukinoshita's eyes widened as the criminal's hands started to move downwards- her own hand twitched on the backup plan she'd hidden in the waistband of her skirt, borrowed from her father's office-

Hiratsuka promptly swept up the documents on the desk and tapped them on the table surface just as Yukinoshita's hand tightened on her father's revolver, the weapon cocking with a soft, nearly imperceptible click. The older woman didn't seem to notice, flipping through the documents before sliding them into a neat manila folder. Yukinoshita realized she was holding her breath, and continued to do so for what seemed like hours as she slowly relaxed her grip on the weapon. False alarm… just calm down...

"Here. Take it." The folder was thrust forward, Hiratsuka extending it like a peace offering. In retrospect, it probably was.

"Why give away your only bargaining chip?" The brunette accepted the item with suspicion, keeping her face straight. When she tried to pull it away however, Hiratsuka still held on tight, her expression nostalgic.

"I suppose you take it as an olive branch between you and me… a peace offering, if you will. Despite everything, I still see you as my student." Hiratsuka finally let go of the folder, straightening her spotless lab-coat as she did. She still wore the damn thing even now. "Consider this a final act of charity."

"This changes nothing. But- I- Thank you… Sensei." This was an unexpected turn of events. Fortunate, but unexpected. Yukinoshita inspected the folder for a moment, before slipping it into her schoolbag carefully. Those documents were worth their weight in gold to her- With this, she could help her family… even if they didn't know it. She had no intention of telling them either, it didn't matter if she was an unsung hero. Even if they were in another city right now there was no telling how far the Hiratsuka-kai's reach stretched, once she disposed of these they would be a little safer.

"Oh, and Yukinoshita? I really hate that sound, you know." Hiratsuka hummed, her feet kicking up onto the now empty table. Another drag of smoke permeated the air between them with a thick, poisonous stench.

"I beg your pardon?" The girl asked, genuine confusion evident in both her tone and features.

"Oh, you know..." Hiratsuka smirked, her smile snakelike and malicious as her voice lowered to a literal hiss. "The click of a .44 hammer cocking."

Neither of them moved, though the schoolgirl could have sworn she felt her heart skip a beat. The moment lasted for those few, agonizing seconds as it felt as though time itself had come to a painfully slow grind. Hiratsuka chuckled after what seemed like an eternity, a low, throaty rumble that would have made babies cry.

"See you around, Yukinoshita. Maybe sooner than you think. If you ever need me…" A pair of sunglasses flicked out from within the woman's coat pocket, coming to rest on her graceful features. "-you know where to look."

The schoolgirl said nothing, instead proceeding to the bar counter ahead for a drink. As she went, not once did she look back at the woman who she once called her mentor.

 **[8]**

The door to the bar opened with an annoying squeak as a thin, mustached man eyed the two newcomers. The bartender chuckled as he saw the teenage pair before him, dressed in the some of the most ridiculous attire he'd ever seen in his aged life.

"Well, if it isn't Hikigaya-kun and Yumiko-chan. Come in, come in!" He patted them both on the back as they made their way inside, still amused at their fashion choice. "Goddamn, what's up with those clothes?"

"You don't even want to know." Hachiman answered bluntly, his grip tightening around the briefcase as if to make sure it was still in his hand.

"Where's the big boss?" Miura asked, strolling in like she owned the place. Straight to the point, that girl was.

"The boss' right over there taking care of some business. Why don't you two hang back a second or two. You see the new girl leave, just go on over."

The pair sat down at the counter even as the graying bartender brought out some bottles, already preparing drinks for the two employees. The bartender also worked as the group's Medic/Doctor, and was one of Hiratsuka's most trusted lieutenants.

"How've you been, Kamiki-san?"

"I've been doing pretty good, how 'bout you two?"

"We're all right." Out of the corner of her eye, Miura noticed that Hachiman was eying the new girl with a contemplative expression, quieter than usual. It was like there was an invisible, unseen spark between them. His fingers drummed against the mysterious briefcase rhythmically as she sulked, a small spike of jealousy building up within her despite herself.

"So I hear you're taking Totsuka-kun out tomorrow." The bartender's voice brought her back to reality, causing her to blink.

"At the boss' request!" She said defensively, looking to Hachiman in a hurry. He looked slightly amused, raising his eyebrow and sipping at his bottle of ice-cold coke. "We're just friends, I'm telling you- he's not my type. Besides, I already have someone I l-like."

"Oh my. Who's the lucky- or should I say, unlucky guy?" Hachiman teased, causing her to blush a deep red.

"That's for me to know and you to never find out." She hissed angrily, punching him on the shoulder. His only response was to chuckle as he got up, excusing himself while he made his way to the washroom.

Miura huffed as she stirred her drink, watching the ice cubes tumble and spin within the dark liquid. Hikio could be so dense sometimes… that idiot.

"He's a dense one, isn't he?" Kamiki laughed from behind the counter, voicing out her exact thoughts while in the middle of counting inventory. "Don't worry about it, it was the same with me and my wife. Look at me, married for thirty years now. You'll get your feelings across someday, even if you have to hammer it into his thick skull."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The blonde said flatly, still staring at her drink.

"Let's face it, everyone knows that you like Hikigaya-kun… except he himself is too dense to notice anything- if he did he probably chalked it up to signs of friendship or whatever nonsense is going through that delusional head of his. You should just tell him straight up-"

"Ah, shaddup." Miura groaned, taking a quick gulp of her beverage. "You talk too much, old man. Go back to counting your coins and whatnot."

The bartender shook his head, chuckling about kids these days and how they have no respect for their elder's advice. Miura rolled her eyes, still sipping at her coke when the new girl that was talking to Hiratsuka came up beside her, apparently intent on ordering a drink.

The other girl didn't even look in her direction as she addressed the bartender, her crystal-clear voice conveying her orders perfectly. "Water."

"You want some ice with that?"

"Yes."

Miura narrowed her eyes as her lips thinned to a dangerous line, glaring at the girl. _She was in Hikio's spot_. And the way he'd been interested in her presence… she already had a bad feeling about this newcomer. Miura felt as though she had seen this girl somewhere before… and then it clicked. Sobu High. This was _Yukinoshita Yukino_ , one of the ' _Elites_ ' of the school. What the hell was she doing here?

The brunette finally noticed Miura glaring at her, and returned it with an equally cold yet haughty stare. Fire and ice clashed as blazing emerald eyes locked with frosty sapphire ones. The two girls were silent, but the tension between them was so thick that one could cut it with a butter knife. Kamiki the bartender opted to stay quiet as he placed the glass of ice water onto the counter as gently as possible, treating it as if he was handling a live landmine.

"You looking at something, friend?" Yukinoshita broke the silence, unwilling to back down.

"You ain't my friend, Ice-Queen." The blonde adjusted herself so her body now so she now fully faced the other girl, her voice dripping with dislike.

To her credit, Yukinoshita didn't even blink at that, instead mirroring Miura's body posture as she faced her new adversary. Her eyes were like chips of ice as they glared right into hers. "What was that?"

"I think you heard me just fine, Frosty."

Yukinoshita seemed to gaze down at her from above, despite the fact that the were eye-to-eye and nearly at the same height on the counter. Internally Miura prepared herself for the incoming verbal retort- the brunette's seemingly holier-than-thou attitude of superiority was starting to piss her off.

Before either of the girls could say anything, Hiratsuka's booming voice cut across the bar like a scalpel through flesh, ending their standoff. "Yumiko Miura's in the house? Girl, get your ass over here."

Miura reluctantly broke eye contact with the Ice-Queen, making her way across the bar subsequently greeting from the crime-lord with a quick bow. Yukinoshita watched the scene unfold with equal parts disbelief and annoyance, though her cold features betrayed no emotion beside the slight clenching of her jaw.

"What's up?"

"Sensei, I'm really sorry-"

"You shouldn't worry about it."

Yukinoshita brought the glass of water to her lips and drained the entire vessel in a single sitting, paying the bartender the measly amount it cost. Despite it being plain water she still felt a strange, bitter taste in her mouth. With that she made her way to the door, waiting to leave this god-forsaken place and go back home already.

"Tch."

That girl and Hiratsuka reminded her a little too much of how she herself used to look up to the teacher.

 **[8]**

"Assuming you have it inside a house where you can work on it a bit, the first thing you want to do is drain it of fluids- this will make it easier to cut up and slow decomposition a bit. The best way to do this quick is to perforate the body with a knife, then perform CPR on it-"

"Ehhhhhh~ I'll have to kiss a dead guy? That's gross as hell, I don't wanna do that!" The young girl complained, interrupting the older one's explanation.

"CPR doesn't mean you have to kiss the corpse, just means you have to get air into its lungs and start pumping the chest like you're trying to bring it back to life." The older girl's twin braids swung lazily as she explained, the majority of her focus still on the small remote-controlled car before her that was darting around the room. "You see, the valves in the heart still work when dead, and the springback of the ribcage will help too. Do this in a bathtub, of course. So remember, after you slit the femoral arteries on the thighs, pump all of that blood out with the bathplug still in."

The younger girl was still listening, though she kept switching her attention between the disassembled gun on the table before her and her senior's wise advice. As if to show that she was still listening, she nodded her head, little remarks and questions popping up occasionally. The television played a cheesy soap opera in the background, adding a little irony to the situation.

"Then, make sure to mingle lots and lots of bleach with the bodily fluids before unplugging the drain to empty the tub. This will help control the stench of death, which would otherwise reek from your gutter gratings- do everything you can do to control or mask the odors." The senior continued, surprisingly enthusiastic.

"Excuse me." Miura interrupted the pair's conversation, leaning over in interest. Her crisp suit wrinkled slightly as she made her way a little closer from the sofa. "Shiromeguri-san, right? I was just curious, but, um… how do you know how to do all this?"

"Yo, Yumiko-san. Shiromeguri-sempai is teaching me how to get rid of dead bodies." The redhead piped up, the weapon on the table now fully assembled as she patted it.

"So I've heard." To be quite honest with herself Miura never did like Sagami very much, often associating her with having a rather bitchy personality. Even now, Miura still thought of the redhead as a mere acquaintance, nothing more. The fact that they both shared a class was irrelevant; the two of them hardly even talked to each other in school.

"You're one of the newer girls like Sagami-san, right?" Shiromeguri replied sleepily, her eyes half-lidded. "I'm Shiromeguri, nice to meet you. I guess I'm your sempai."

"Err… yeah. I'm Yumiko, likewise." Miura bit back the urge to comment that she already knew her name. Maybe Shiromeguri wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer but she still had to show some respect to a senior in the Family.

"To answer your question, I know all this because it is required in my line of work… though most of it is from personal experience, I suppose. If I'm not wrong, you're Hikigaya-kun's current partner?"

The blonde blinked, slightly surprised. "Ah, yes. You've worked with him before?"

"No, but I've read his file. Quite the impressive record, I must say. But basically, you know how every one of us has at most two different specializations to focus on? An example: for Hikigaya-kun, it's Asset Retrieval and Firearms. I think you'll know your first one in like, a month or two."

Miura cocked an eyebrow, reveling in this new information. Asset Retrieval, huh. That would explain why he was assigned to retrieve that stupid briefcase in the first place.

"Mine's Intelligence. I'm working on getting my Firearms specialization." Sagami remarked, holding up a weapon part with all the care of a mother cradling a child. Only now did Miura notice the strange-looking purse nestled in her lap, tan leather with a design depicting a Dragon encircling a moon. How gaudy.

"You don't seem very intelligent to me."

"Witty as always, Yumiko-chan~" the redhead replied, her tone full of sarcasm.

"Anyways, I suspect you've met Kawasaki-san?" Shiromeguri asked, the RC car zooming across the room in short bursts of speed. Something bulky was attached to it, but it was moving so erratically she couldn't quite make it out.

"Yeah, actually. So I suppose..."

"Yeah. One of her specializations was Disposal, same as me. We used to work together, actually. I believe her second one is… Driving. Basically she can act as your getaway driver, if you ever need one. Odd choice for a girl."

"So what is your other specialization, anyways?"

At that, Shiromeguri gave her a warm smile and thumbed a button on the controller. The RC car stopped right before Miura's feet and did a small bump into her, prompting her to look down at it. Attached to it with multiple pieces of duct tape was a lumpy brown block, something that almost caused her to recoil when she finally realized what it was. Though its shape was slightly distorted by the tape wrapping around it, the object was clearly labeled with bold black letters.

 **DEMOLITION BLOCK**

 **COMPOSITION C4**

In the extra space under the lettering, the words " _Sheer Heart Attack_ " were scribbled in bright pink marker and cursive handwriting, as if to make a statement. When Miura looked back up at Shiromeguri in disbelief, the older girl still wore that warm, sleepy smile on her face.

"What do you think?"

Miura was spared from answering when a voice called out for her, derailing her train of thought.

"Yumi-chan? I'm ready~ step into my office!"

 **[8]**

The bespectacled girl grinned, still drying off her short locks with a hairdryer. They were in a spacious room with a large bed, cupboard and desk complete with a desktop computer. Everything was bleached in sickening shades of white and pink, giving the room a girlish demeanor. Ebina Hina hummed in satisfaction after she was done, putting on her glasses giving the other girl a quick once-over.

"So, what can I do for you today, Yumi-chan?"

"Hina, do you know that a live explosive is currently racing across your living room?" Miura asked incredulously.

"Hmm? Oh, don't worry. Shiromeguri-san knows what's she's doing. Also, she's going to be staying here since for the time being since her old safehouse blew up. Don't worry, she was living alone at the time."

"Do you not see the literal contradictions- you know what- forget it. I'm just going to pretend I didn't see that and trust you."

"It blew up because of a completely unrelated incident, I assure you-"

"Forget it. I need a few things, but let's start with a new gun; the piece of junk you gave me misfired."

"It did? That's strange, the Norinco products are usually rather reliable… may I interest you in a Hi-power, or maybe a Makarov instead? Nice and compact." Ebina flipped up the bed to reveal a hidden compartment, which opened up to show firearms neatly stacked up like cord wood. She strolled over to the cupboard and flung it open as well, all sorts of pistols and rifles arranged on display. It was any firearm enthusiast's dream, but to her it was just business as usual.

"I don't know anything about guns, Hina. I just use them." Miura groaned exasperatedly. "Something reliable will do."

"Eh? Now that I think of it, I received a call from Hikitani-kun this morning… he placed an order for a new one. Maybe it's for you? A gift, maybe?"

"I'm not sure how to feel about that." The blonde said. "A firearm as a gift? **Ugh** , that's just weird…"

"Aww, I think its really sweet." Ebina made a low whistle, nudging her friend slightly. "You lucky girl, you! Anyways, here. The Makarov, also known as the PM. Watch for the heavy trigger pull on the first shot. Free of charge only because your old piece malfunctioned… give it back to me so I can take a look at it. "

A tiny pistol was thrust into Miura's waiting hand, its diminutive size not really casting the best first impression on her. She tested its weight and grip, inspecting it and ensuring the safety was on. Ebina inspected her old, malfunctioning pistol, a curious eye scanning the weapon's internals.

"Its… really small. Are you sure this thing isn't a toy?" The teenager asked, making sure there was no magazine attached as she pulled the slide back, checking the chamber to make sure the weapon was empty.

"You dare question me, the Great Ebina? I am insulted." Ebina said in mock horror, a scandalized look on her face. "Besides, think of it as a temporary replacement until you receive your new one from Hikitani."

"Fine." The tiny pistolet was pocketed in a holster under her suit, hidden away until it was needed. She also accepted three full magazines, making sure they were snug and secure as she put them away.

"Anything else you might need, your Majesty?"

Miura ignored her teasing, instead scrolling through her phone for Hiratsuka's message. "Yeah, a package… serial number M10-SE. Whatever that means."

"Em-One-Zero-Ess-Eee. Hang on…" The fujoshi rummaged through her inventory before pulling out a small, dusty briefcase with the exact serial identification code hastily written on a piece of tape stuck to it. She tore it off nonchalantly, the case opening with a loud click. Within lay a submachine-gun, complete with three magazines and what appeared to be a suppressor. "Alright, here we go~."

"MAC-10. Small size, extremely high rate of fire. Usually fires 9x19mm, but this one looks a little modified... ahh, so that's it. The E stands for Experimental. This is some high-tech stuff disguised as low-tech... This isn't one of mine." Ebina explained professionally. She double-checked the weapon before cycling the weapon's bolt with a satisfying clack, muzzle aimed at the roof as she tested the iron-sights. Following that, the bespectacled girl looked over the suppressor before attaching it onto the weapon, testing its new weight. "I'm not even going to ask what the boss wants you to do with this."

"She just asked me to pick it up. I don't even know what I'll be doing with it."

After a short briefing on how to use it properly, the weapon was disassembled and put back neatly into its disguised carrying case. Ebina handed the case over with a smirk, satisfied. "Remember, this isn't a damn charity- it's on loan and you're borrowing it. Don't have too much fun with that- I expect it back in one piece. Well, undamaged. You know what I mean."

"I'll try not to." Miura answered, satisfied. "I still have one more package I need to pick up."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Heroin." Miura answered with a straight face. Ebina blinked in confusion, as if the trying to comprehend what she'd just heard.

"Uh, Yumi-chan, don't you know? The Hiratsuka-kai are duty-bound to get rid of all hard drugs like that, it keeps the cities clean. Only grass is allowed, I think. Don't tell me you're trying to start on that shit, and even if you are, what kind of establishment do you think I'm running here?"

"You sell guns."

The short-haired girl ignored that little comment, launching into her own personal tirade. "As a friend, I am honor-bound to stop you from straying down this dark and twisted path! I mean, have you seen what withdrawal does to person's mind? I have, and its just sad. Funny story, actually- last month I-"

"Hina, it's not for me." Miura sighed, resisting the urge to facepalm.

"…It's not?"

"Last month you raided a drug factory with a bunch of the boss' guys, right? Like you were just about to tell me. Well, the boss needs that sample that you retrieved if you still have it, something about planting false evidence or something, I dunno."

"Ah… so that's how it is. Well, I see no problem with that." Ebina laughed and swung the door open cheerfully. "Follow me!"

The blonde rolled her eyes and followed her friend into… the kitchen? "You're keeping the drug sample in your kitchen?"

"Yeah, I'd suppose its the last place they would look if we got raided. Not that that's going to be a problem- Shiromeguri helped me rig the house to blow in an emergency." The girl tapped on her chin as she looked through her ingredients on the counter, humming thoughtfully.

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that." Miura wasn't an expert but she was fairly sure that putting explosives near live ammunition was a blatant disregard of even the most basic of safety protocols.

"Now where did I put it… ah. Here we go." The bespectacled girl held a jar labeled with the word 'Not Flour' and unscrewed the lid, retrieving a small baggie of white powder from within.

"Thanks." She accepted the baggie, carefully stashing it away in her coat pocket and making sure it was closed tightly.

"Careful with that. Factory we got it from says its some sort of experimental variant. You heard of _China White_? They're calling this one _Snow White_." Ebina cautioned, her tone warning. "They told me its really potent, even a few grams is enough to knock a fully grown man off his feet. And that's from ingestion alone."

"So I'm holding some sort of super-drug? Doesn't seem like a very good product if it's so dangerous."

"Hell if I know. Apparently the high you get from it is insane, almost deadly to new users." Ebina scoffed, shaking her head. "Just don't use it on yourself. Last thing I want to see is your name in the headlines."

"Duly noted." Well, that was grim. Miura nodded and shook the Arms Dealer's hand firmly, thanking her. "Well, I'll see you around, Hina."

"Yeah, take care. Stay safe out there, Yumi-chan."

On her way out, Miura nodded to both girls still lounging in the living room, one of whom who was seemingly in the middle of a weird monologue.

"You what I'm gonna do, Shiromeguri-senpai? I'm gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado Convertible, Hot Pink! With whaleskin hubcaps and all-leather cow interior, and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights, yeah!" Sagami said enthusiastically, the weapon before her reassembled once more as she switched her attention between her audience and the TV.

"That's nice."

"And I'm gonna drive around in that baby at 115 mph, getting one mile per gallon, sucking down Quarter Pounder Cheese Burgers from McDonald's in the old fashioned Non-biodegradable Styrofoam containers, And when I'm done sucking down those grease ball burgers, I'm gonna wipe my mouth with the City Council flag, and then I'm gonna toss the Styrofoam container right out the side! And there ain't a goddamned thing anybody can do about it- You know why? Because **we got the guns** , that's why.

"Ara-ara." It was hard to tell if Shiromeguri was actually interested or if the words were flowing right past her ears; her cheerful expression never seemed to falter. Sagami smacked the butt of her weapon on the table for emphasis, fully immersed in her inane rant.

Miura simply sighed, and bid the two girls goodbye. She had a gut feeling that she'd be seeing them again soon, but put it aside for now. Now she had bigger problems to prepare for.

 **[8]**

Pulling up to the big boss' house was tantamount to entering the Lion's den. Hiratsuka lived in a literal mansion, towering white walls and glass doors greeted whoever dared to tread upon these sacred grounds. Miura downshifted, the vehicle rumbling as it parked into the driveway. She made her way across the footpath, eying the wide variety of flowers that shrouded the path with a sweet fragrance. With the spare keycard she'd received she unlocked the gate and made her way inside, waiting outside the front door.

The teenager groaned internally, checking her watch. Keep it together, she reminded herself. Just treat Totsuka to dinner and then bring him home, nothing more, nothing less. Piece of cake. This entire charade was just literally just so someone could keep an eye on the androgynous boy while Hiratsuka was out of town for some personal business. Still, she knew for a fact if Totsuka returned with so much as a scratch, Hiratsuka would have her head on a silver platter.

"Is that you, Yumiko-san? Please, come in! Make yourself at home." The femminine boy's voice echoed over the intercom as she approached the main entrance, the door's electronic lock disengaging with a soft beep. Top of the line equipment, she noted. Reinforced door. For a moment she wondered why Totsuka was so important to the crimeboss, but put it aside. Curiosity killed the cat, after all. Totsuka was a good friend to both Miura and Hachiman, though everyone always assumed he was a girl because of his androgynous appearance. It didn't help that he preferred to wear gender-neutral clothing in class like the gym uniform he often sported.

As she entered, Miura eyed the various sculptures and modern art pieces around the living room, snorting as she did. The boss liked to live extravagantly, it seemed. She briefly considered treating herself to a drink from the impressive indoor bar, but the thought was cut short as Totsuka appeared… clad in his casual clothes which were rather girly, to be honest. The teenage boy was dressed in short trousers and a loose-fitting top, which clearly seemed to emphasize his long, hairless legs and hid the manlier contours of his shoulders. In other words, anyone looking would probably think he was a girl at first glance.

"...Hello, Totsuka. Aren't you cold, dressed like that?" Miura asked, slightly exasperated.

"Hmm? Not really. Why?" His innocent reply came with a cute finger on his chin.

"Nevermind. Let's get going. I'll lend you my coat if you get cold."

"Gee, Yumiko-san. It's almost as if you're the guy here." Totsuka teased, a small smile on his face. "Please take care of me."

"Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing."

 **[8]**

"Ah, make a left here! Alright, park in there."

As the car rumbled to a stop in the dimly lit parking lot, Miura found herself sighing for the umpteenth time today. The pair made their way to the moderately crowded restaurant, a greeter already coming forward to assist them.

"Really, Totsuka? You wanna eat dinner here?"

"D-don't judge. I like the, um, atmosphere. Yeah."

"It's a maid cafe." True enough, the moment the words left her mouth, a frilly-looking maid bowed to them, a radiant smile on her youthful features.

"Welcome, Master and Mistress!" The maid said happily to the two, before humming in confusion. Her eyes traveled up and down Miura's body, who she had addressed as 'Master', then did the same to Totsuka, who she had called 'Mistress'. "U-um. Eh? Or is it Mistress and Master?"

It was easy to mistake Miura for a guy with the dim light, her large coat and crisp black suit projecting an aura of intimidation, not to mention she was slightly taller that Totsuka. The only thing that highlighted that she was a girl was her long blonde hair and feminine face, the latter of which was beginning to twist into a scowl of displeasure. Totsuka shifted uncomfortably; despite how he looked and dressed, he didn't much like being referred to as a female.

"Just get me a table for two."

"Yes Master! I-I-I mean Mistress! Coming right up!" The maid quickly led them to a vacant table, scurrying away as soon as they sat down. Totsuka giggled at her reaction, leaning back into his chair. Miura watched the girl go, taking off her heavy coat and putting it aside. "You don't have to be so fierce all the time, Yumiko-san. Just relax a bit!"

"I'm not fierce. This is my natural state of mind." Miura said through grit teeth as she began to browse through the menu. "And I can't afford to relax since Sensei specifically requested me to take care of you. If anything happens to even a single hair on your head, I'll be in deep-"

"Uh-uh-uh. No cursing or swearing today. It's bad for a girl to have habits like that."

A blonde eyebrow raised high into the girl's forehead. "Yes, I suppose you would know that very well."

"So what do you think of this place? Aren't the uniforms cute?"

"Cute? Yeah, I guess. To be honest, I've never really eaten at one of these." The blonde eyed a nearby maid feeding a nearby customer on the opposite table, cooing lovingly as if the teenage boy was her baby. "Remind me why we're here again?"

Another, different maid approached them before the androgynous boy could reply, her twin-tails swaying slightly as she moved.

"Hi, I'm Mika. What can I get you?"

"Let's see… steak, steak, steak." Miura leafed through the menu, humming with thought. "Garlic Saikoro Steak. Yeah, I'll have that. And a Vanilla Coke."

"What about you, miss?" The maid glanced in Totsuka's direction, awaiting his order.

The young boy seemed to sigh, before regaining his composure and not bothering to correct that she had just misgendered him. "I'll have the… Meido Burger, and… a five-dollar shake."

"Would you like one of our Maids to hand feed-"

"No thank you!" Totsuka said quickly, a bright red blush blooming on his cheeks. Huh, it really made him look like a maiden when he did that, Miura thought to herself. Currently, she was more interested in what he'd just ordered.

"Did you just order a five-dollar shake?"

"Mmm-hmm." The boy answered, his blush now receding. "What about it?"

"That's a shake? That's milk and ice-cream? And it costs five bucks-" The blonde frowned, trying to remember the last time she had one of those. She turned to the maid waitress, her tone questioning. "You don't put bourbon in it or nothing?"

"We don't serve alcohol here, sir." Miura felt her eye twitch ever so slightly. The maid nodded, then tapped on her notepad. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

They watched her go, the short, frilly shirt swaying slightly and accentuating the girl's nice legs and hips. Miura shot Totsuka a deadpan look, her fingers drumming across the table surface rhythmically. They were left with nothing but an empty table and an awkward silence, neither of them sure of what to say to the other.

A few minutes passed and they were still in that awkward state of silence, Miura occasionally running her fingers over the tiny Makarov as if to make sure it was still there, while Totsuka had started to squirm in his seat uncomfortably.

"Don't you hate that?" Totsuka started, eyes full of youthful innocence.

"Hate what?"

"Uncomfortable silences." Totsuka tapped his fingers against his face thoughtfully. "Why do we find it necessary to yak about unnecessary stuff in order to be comfortable?"

Miura blinked, attempting to come up with an answer but found none in her repertoire of witty comebacks. "I don't know. That's a good question."

"That's when you know you found somebody really special." The boy replied, leaning back into his chair. "When you can just shut up for a minute and comfortably share silence. Like you and Hachiman."

"Hikio, huh. Let me guess, he told you about this place?"

"Well, um, it's nice here, right?" Totsuka tried, laughing nervously. "Hachiman took me here once. It was fun."

"Did he now." Miura noted the boy used his first name instead of his last. She'd have to keep an eye on Hikio. It would be horrifying if it turned out he swung the other way.

"Yeah! He mentioned you, actually." A sudden curveball from Totsuka threw her off her game, causing Miura to lose focus just for a second just as the maid arrived with the drinks they ordered. "I think he really appreciates you."

"I-I see." She sipped at her vanilla coke, savoring its sweet taste. Miura surveyed the young boy curiously, a stray thought popping up in her head. "Wait. Why are we talking about him again?"

"Eh? I thought you'd like to talk about him. Y'know, since you like him and all."

The teenage killer stopped mid-sip, before shurgging. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you two are a pretty good match! Why don't you try asking him out-"

"Out of the question."

"So you do like him-"

"We're just good friends." Miura stated quickly, her face stony like it was carved out of marble.

"No no no, you and I are just good friends." Totsuka rebutted. "There's something between you two."

Their conversation was interrupted by the waiter returning with their main courses, succulent meat fresh from the grill laid bare before them. The pair began to dig in, Totsuka still attempting to talk with in between bites.

"I mean, I tried to convince Hachiman to ask you out, subtly of course-"

Miura nearly choked on her steak, coughing and sputtering. "You what?!"

"-but he's just too dense to get a hint. That's why I thought maybe you should instead…" Totsuka continued, munching on his burger happily.

"Totsuka, look-" She began to search for the words, then gave up. "Look. I don't think I'm ready for a relationship with anyone now, to be honest. Especially in my line of work."

"You're not? I-I see. I won't bring it up again." The boy leaned in a little closer, concerned and slightly apologetic. "My mistake. Yumiko-san, you and Hachiman are both precious friends of mine, so I'll respect your decision."

Miura blinked owlishly, slightly confused. That was… easier than she'd expected. Maybe Totsuka really was as innocent as he looked. "So this whole plan was just to get us talking about Hikio?"

"Um, partially. Yumiko-san, can you keep a secret?" Totsuka whispered conspiratorially, his eyes suddenly shifty and nervous.

"Shoot."

The boy leaned in, his voice low and quiet. "I _really_ like maid outfits."

Miura eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "You meant you like _girls wearing_ maid outfits, right?"

"Errrr-" Totsuka eyed a nearby maid warily, appreciating the interesting design.

"Nevermind, don't answer that." She snorted derisively, taking note of the maid outfit's short skirt and revealing blouse. "There's no way in hell I would wear one of those."

Totsuka giggled, a demure hand to his mouth. "I'm sure Hachiman would very much like it on you."

For a split second she imagined herself in a maid outfit in front of Hikio, before completely dismissing that thought with burning cheeks and a wave of her hand. "Enough about me. Tell me about yourself- what exactly do you do for Hiratsuka-sensei?"

The question seemed to catch the young man by surprise, causing him to pause mid-slurp. "Me? Well, usually my role is to, er, as quoted by Sensei, 'stand there and look cute'."

"So she's treating you like a walking ornament. Why am I not surprised." Miura deadpanned, taking a big bite of steak.

"And we, uh, cuddle sometimes." Totsuka said shyly, a faint dusting of red beginning to form on his cheeks.

That was new. The teenager leaned in closer, her emerald eyes questioning. "Hm. You and her? You two are- I mean, I'd heard the rumors that you were her boytoy, but, whew."

"N-n-n-not like that! She doesn't do anything lewd or explicit, just… holds me when she's sleeping sometimes. Like a big plush toy." Totsuka flushed bright red, hands up in denial. "B-but its all right! She's not treating me like an object. I think she just needs companionship sometimes."

Wow. Miura didn't know if that was pathetic, horrifying or adorable. Perhaps a mix of all three, then. Somebody just marry that woman already, seriously. She waited for the boy to go on, watching as he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Please don't fault her, Yumiko-san. She's been alone for so long-" Totsuka took another breath and steeled himself. "I owe a lot to her. Ever since my parents moved out of the city she gave me a home, put clothes on my back, helped pay my school fees. I know she's not a very good person but she's doing her best."

Miura wanted to bring up the tiny detail that his parents probably moved out because of the increasing fear of the Yakuza by the public, which Hiratsuka was partly responsible for via her turf-wars with the other factions when she cleansed the entire city of undesirables, but decided to hold her tongue. He probably knew that already.

"Totsuka, you do realize that Hiratsuka, and her people, and by extension, me-" The girl huffed, then took another bite of her perfectly seared steak. Delicious. "You know we're all dangerous, right?"

"I know that you're my friend. Hachiman and the others, too." Totsuka nodded confidently while he sipped at his beverage. "But I don't need a lecture from you, Yumiko-san. I understand you guys are bad people. But deep down, you're good at heart. That goes double for Sensei."

"Yes, that's the general consensus, isn't it?" Miura's knife made its way through her steak, metal sawing through meat. "I know you admire her but… look. We're not white knights or heroes. She has to make decisions, Totsuka."

The boy didn't reply, taking a big bite of his burger to fill the silence.

"I mean, she tries to set bad people on other bad people, but at the end of the day she's still the boss of Chiba's underworld." Miura made sure to say that last part as softly as possible, her green eyes scanning for any potential eavesdroppers. "I'm not badmouthing Sensei, far from it, in fact. She has my upmost respect for actually managing to clean up this Godforsaken city. I'm just trying to make you understand that you shouldn't get too close. To her. And us. You're just a normal guy and I don't want you getting hurt or caught up in our messes."

Totsuka nodded, through his usual cute smile was replaced by a worrying frown. "Yumiko-san-"

"Everything she does is basically a delicate decision: let me give you an example. Over here we've got scumbags inside the city," Miura raised her left hand as if she was holding something, waving it slightly. "-and over here you've got scumbags outside the city." She raised her right hand this time and waved it too, pantomiming a weighing scale with her arms.

"Uh-huh?" The pair took a moment to pick at their respective meals, chewing slowly.

"Me and my colleagues? We're the fucking pivot. Keeps things in order." The teenager finished, clapping her hands together. "What I'm trying to say is; you can admire her all you want, but there's no need to put her on a pedestal."

"I thought we agreed there'd be no cussing or swearing today." The platinum blonde groaned, rubbing his temples. "But I get your point, Yumiko-san. Don't fly too close to the sun."

"I never agreed with your terms Totsuka, I was just being nice. And That's an apt way to put it, though I never did read into that Greek myth bullshit. Too melodramatic, if you ask me. Real life isn't that dramatic." Miura grunted, gulping down the last of her steak. "C'mon, let's get going. The faster I get you home the safer you'll be."

"You're just trying to get rid of me, aren't you?" Totsuka laughed coyly, finishing up his milkshake with a loud slurp. "You're incorrigible, Yumiko-san."

"No, I'm just trying to protect you. Bad things happen to people related to our line of work." With a wave of her hand she called a maid-waitress over, pulling out her wallet.

 **[8]**

The drive back to Hiratsuka's home was rather uneventful, Miura's red 1964 Chevelle Malibu crunching on gravel as it parked in the driveway. The white walls were imposing as ever, still looking as though they were judging whoever dared enter.

"Yo Totsuka, let me use your washroom for a minute."

"Sure. It's down the hall and to the left." Totsuka yawned, eyelids already heavy with sleep. He was wearing Miura's heavy coat, regretting dressed so lightly on such a cold night. It didn't quite fit him, the long sleeves shrouding his slim arms entirely like a cloak. "I'll be watching TV if you need me."

The girl nodded before making her way into the inner depths of the spacious house. Totsuka yawned a second time, plopping down onto the cushy sofa… and right onto Miura's coat pocket by pure coincidence. There was a small _pomf_ as something within burst, alerting the drowsy boy that he'd broken something.

"Eh? What was…" Totsuka began fishing around for whatever had caused the disturbance, his fingers grasping a small bag of powder. It was beautiful, whiter than freshly driven snow… so fine that it could slip through his fingers like silk. "Is this… starch? For the coat?"

The poor, innocent boy was struck by disaster when he stuck his nose close to the bag to take a cautionary sniff… and he sneezed when tiny, ultra-fine particles irritated his delicate senses. His explosive breath blasted into the bag, and with no other openings except up, the full volume of the white powder slammed into his face like a truck.

"Wha!" The powder was all over his face- he had managed to close his eyes in time, but a considerable amount had gone into his mouth… and up his nostrils. Totsuka gasped, coughing and spitting most of what had gone into his mouth, but in return had taken several deep breaths by pure reflex, _forcing the drug further into his system_.

"This is-"

Almost instantly, the room began to spin, colors and shapes blending together into a nightmare kaleidoscope of movement. He began to feel this strange sense of euphoria and ecstasy, the drug already starting to invade his bloodstream and subsequently his brain. Each breath he took only made things worse, sending the strange powder deeper up his nose. Even in that horrific high, Totsuka understood what was happening to him, his legs shaking and hands trembling. He'd never seen it happen, but he'd read about it. So this was what a high, no, an _overdose_ felt like, a weirdly calm part of his mind whispered.

 _Nonononono. This can't be happening._

"Yumi…ko…-san… Hachi…man." Totsuka's legs gave out and he felt himself hit the floor, the fluffy carpet rubbing up against his face. At some point his nose had begun to bleed, he could feel the warmth stream down his face and onto his cold, sweaty chest. With his remaining strength, he reached a trembling hand up to his lips, and it came away with a bubbly mix of red and white. Blood and Foam.

"Sen…sei…"

 **[8]**

Miura stared the enormous mirror in the bathroom, grimacing. The girl in the glass stared right back, eyes fierce and dangerous. Was that how she looked like to others? Or had she just subconsciously adjusted her own behavior to fit her line of work? To be honest, she wasn't even sure where the girl began and where the hitwoman ended. It was like the world had gone crazy and now kids were running around with guns, fighting gang wars.

"Look at you, Yumiko Miura." She groaned at herself, the immaculate suit fitting her perfectly and emphasizing her curves. Only that stupid coat made her look bigger that she actually was. "The best years of your life and you're spending it killing people."

She thought about what Totsuka had said, the words echoing in her mind hauntingly. Still, she really wasn't ready for a relationship especially with such a volatile job. She thought about Hikio, her idiot partner. At first, she had hated his guts but they slowly became friends over the course of their partnership. But now maybe she wanted something more. She wasn't sure of herself, or of anything, for that matter. Why had she even joined in the first place… money, power, hunger? Or perhaps she had just seen which way the wind was blowing reacted accordingly.

The schoolgirl sighed explosively, sweeping her blonde locks back. "Keep it together, Miura. Stay fuckin' frosty."

With a flick of her wrist, she checked the expensive wristwatch. It was thirty minutes after midnight, way past her previous bedtime. Not that it mattered now- she lived alone in Chiba while her family was safe in another faraway city. It was better this way.

Casually, Miura made her way back to the living room, calling for Totsuka as she went. "Totsuka? I'm going home now. See you again when school starts in-"

The words that she were about to say died on her lips as she rounded the corner to see the dimunitive boy sprawled on the ground… _with a small, translucent baggie beside him_. She immediately raced over to his side, flipping him over onto his back. Glazed, unfocused eyes stared back at her, a thin stream of bright crimson sliding down his lips, and onto his chin where it mixed with yellowish-white foam. The _Snow White_ was all over his face, and there was some even in his hair. With a quick wipe from her hand she got most of it off, cursing.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking- You-" The blonde started to panic, already starting to check for his heartbeat and pulse. Totsuka was still breathing... if you could call it that. His breaths came out in agonizing, ragged gasps, like a fish out of water. Miura recognized what had happened, having seen it happen before firsthand. _An overdose._ More foam dribbled from his mouth as his empty eyes stared right past her face, past the bone-white ceiling, past the wispy clouds, and into the night sky above where stars twinkled with a faded glow.

"Oh, Fuck. Fuck, Fuck, **FUCK!** " Miura picked up the boy in a fireman carry, fear fueling her every action as she kicked the front door open. She shoved his limp body into her car, jumping in a moment later and twisting the keys while she floored the accelerator. Rubber screeched against asphalt as the car raced into the night, their destination already set.

"Don't fucking die on me, Totsuka!"

With one hand on the wheel Miura fished out her smartphone, fumbling with it as she thumbed desperately for Ebina's contact. The vehicle drifted as she made a hard right and popped the clutch, engine wailing as the gears and transmission struggled to compensate from the sudden abuse. Miura pressed down on the contact 'Ebina's House' with shaky hands, bringing the device up to her ear instantly.

"Answer." She spat, almost as if hoping that saying the words would magically make them come true. The cheery ringtone seemed to chime on for an eternity, musical tinkling filling her ears with irritating noise as she looked between the empty midnight road and her friend slumped over in the passenger seat.

"Fuck! Hina, answer!"

 **[8]**

Ebina Hina was enjoying herself, snug and cosy in her poofy pajamas and relaxing on her enormous bed as she read through one of her favorite BL light novels on her laptop. The bespectacled girl giggled to herself as she pushed her glasses up in anticipation, reveling in her smut. Just as she was getting to the good part, the phone in the living room began to ring incessantly, disrupting her concentration.

She opted to ignore it, expecting whoever was calling to just give up eventually… but the ringing kept going on and on, quickly waking up Shiromeguri, who was sleeping on the living room couch since they didn't have an extra room in the house. Ebina could hear her groan tiredly, followed by a loud sniff. Shiromeguri often took a long time to start moving if she was awakened abruptly, so there was no way she was going to answer that.

A moment later and Sagami started to complain from her own room, having gone to bed much earlier. She didn't take too well to her sleep being interrupted, her shrill voice echoing through the house.

"Ebina! The Goddamn phone's ringing!"

"I can hear it." The Arms Dealer called back, sighing and getting up from her spot. BL would have to wait, it seems.

"I thought you told those fucking assholes never to call here this late!" She was probably referring to Hiratsuka's grunts working under them but right now she didn't really care. If they were calling this late they'd better have a damn good reason.

"Yeah, I told them!" Ebina coughed and patted Shiromeguri on the back, who was still staring at the phone sleepily. "And that is exactly what I'm going to tell this fucking asshole right now."

She picked up the phone with a practiced wave of her hand, bringing the receiver close to her ear… "Hello~"

" ** _Hina! It's me!_** "

…and immediately pulling it away and wincing as Miura's telltale voice shouted over the phone.

" _I'm in big fucking trouble, girl. I'm coming to your house._ "

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold your horses." Ebina frowned, paying much more attention now. "What's the problem?"

Miura's voice screamed through the tiny electronic speaker, drawing an interested blink from Shiromeguri. " _I've got this guy, he's fucking overdosing on me!_ "

"Wha?! Why don't you bring him to Doc Kamiki-" She started, only to get cut off instantly.

" _Doc's out of town with Hiratsuka on her peacetalk thing!_ "

"Fuck. What about Hikitani-"

" _He's on leave for the holidays, out of town until school starts!_ "

"Okay, just-"

" _He's fucking dying on me!_ "

"Okay! Just bite the bullet, take him to the hospital, and call a lawyer. It's just some random guy, he's expendable." Ebina suggested, which was met by an instant refusal.

" _Negative. It's the Prince!_ "

The fujoshi facepalmed, a long, low whine escaping her lips. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck." What had she done to deserve this?

Ebina wracked her brains on where she left the first aid kit, her mind starting to race with all sorts of negative outcomes. "Alright, are you on a mobile phone? Get your ass-"

Whatever she was to say was cut short as the screech of tires resounded outside the house like a banshee in the night. The girl marched out just in time to see Miura's red Malibu scream its way across her freshly-cut lawn, ramming into her garage door with a tremendous crash.

"What the hell was that?!" Sagami screeched from her bedroom, which Ebina promptly ignored as she stalked angrily towards the absolute disaster on her front yard.

" **Have you lost your fucking mind?!** "

 **[8]**

Miura groaned painfully as she pulled herself up, one hand latching onto Totsuka's shirt as she began to drag him out of the vehicle and onto Ebina's lawn. The owner of said lawn was making her way towards them, starting to yell something at her.

" **Have you lost your fucking mind?!** " Ebina raged, anger clear on her features. "What the hell were you thinking, giving such a lightweight guy something of that potency? You were talking about _drug shit_ on the phone! You crashed _your car_ _into_ _my house!_ "

"Ebina, help me out. And I didn't give him a damn thing, he somehow got himself-" The blonde dragged him by the arms, leaving his legs trailing on the wet grass.

"-he somehow got himself like that?! Am I supposed to believe that _magically happened_?! Bloody unbelievable. Of all the people we know it had to be him-" Ebina wasted no time in grabbing the boy's legs, and together they hauled his limp body up as they moved him past the front door and into the living room. Shiromeguri was still there, though she seemed half-asleep and drowsy, watching the scene unfold with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Ebina! What the fuck's going on out here?" Sagami flung open her bedroom door to see Totsuka's unconscious body on their living room carpet, with Miura and Ebina leaning over and inspecting him. "What the- Isn't that Totsuka-kun from class? Sobu High's Prince?"

"Go to the fridge, and get the thing with the adrenaline shot." Ebina commanded, slamming the front door shut to prevent any nosy neighbors.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's overdosing!" Miura answered, panic in her tone.

"Get him the hell outta here!"

" **Get the shot!** " Ebina and Miura roared in unison, causing Sagami to snarl angrily.

"Fuck you! Fuck you too!" Nevertheless, the redhead began to make her way towards the kitchen, grumbling to herself.

"What a fuckin' bitch." The blonde spat to no one in particular, busy wiping down the unconscious boy and making sure he wasn't drowning in his own foam or something.

"Just keep talking to him, alright?" Ebina got up, heading to one of the storage rooms. "While she's getting the shot, I'm gonna get my little black medical book."

"What the fuck you need a medical book for?"

"What do you want me to do?" Ebina whirled to face her, exasperated. "I've never had to give an adrenaline shot before."

" _You've never given an adrenaline shot?!_ " Miura howled angrily, her arms spread out in disbelief. The situation was rapidly escalating out of control by the second. None of them were trained in first aid, and with Doc Kamiki out of town, she was left with the only option to take Totsuka here in the hopes that Ebina could fix him. It seemed as though her fears were realized as Ebina began shouting right back.

"I'm a fucking Arms Dealer; I sell things that kill people. I don't fucking bring them back to life! I'm not a Goddamn Doctor!"

"Get the shot!"

"I am, if you'll let me!"

"I'm not stopping you!"

"Stop talking to me, start talking to him!"

" **Get the shot!** "

Shiromeguri watched the entire back-and-forth exchange happening before her without a single word, her head swiveling back and forth between the two girls like a referee at a tennis match. She blinked slowly, starting to focus on the limp body of the boy on the living room carpet. He looked somewhat familiar...

"Hurry up Hina, we're losing him!" Miura yelled down the hall, which only served to drive the other girl into a bigger panic.

"I'm looking as fast as I can!"

"What's she looking for?" Sagami asked, the adrenaline shot retrieved and ready in her hand. She handed it over to Miura and made her way towards the thunderous crashing Ebina was creating as she dug through piles of discarded magazines and empty ammo boxes in search of the book.

"I don't know, some book." Miura answered, still checking on Totsuka.

"What are you looking for?"

"A little black medical book." Several thumps and bangs, followed by a loud curse as the teenager struck against something painfully.

" _What are you looking for?_ "

"A little black fucking medical book! It's like a-a-a textbook that they give to nurses." Ebina said exasperatedly. More thumping, followed by the sound of metal scraping on metal.

"I never saw no medical book."

"Trust me, I have one." Spent ammo casings rolled across the hardwood floor as Ebina carelessly tossed one of her storage boxes away while searching.

"If it's so important, why don't you keep it with the shot?" Sagami questioned, peering through the doorway.

" **I don't know!** Stop bothering me!" Ebina barked, evidently reaching the end of her patience.

"Listen," The redhead hissed, an accusing finger pointing in Totsuka's direction. "While you're looking, _that boy's gonna die on our carpet_. You're never going to find anything in this mess!"

"Sagami, I'm gonna _fucking_ kill you if you don't shut up-" "Hina, **GET IN HERE!** "

"-Fuck out of my way." The bespectacled girl pushed past her roommate and into the living room, ignoring her insult as she did. This was definitely not how she had wanted to spend her night.

Miura and Ebina leaned over the still-limp Totsuka, the blonde shoving the adrenaline kit into her friend's arms. "Quit fucking around and give him the shot. Come on!"

"Okay." Ebina huffed, ripping the packaging open and wiping the sweat off her forehead in one continuous motion. "While I'm doing this, you take off his shirt and find his heart."

The schoolgirl did as she was told, ripping open the boy's loose t-shirt open with her bare hands and exposing his cold, clammy chest. "It's gotta be exact?"

"Yes it's gotta be exact, we're giving him a shot to the heart, so I guess it's gotta be fucking exact!"

"Well I don't know where exactly where his heart is-" Miura leaned over his body and put her ear close to his chest, before quickly retreating and pointing to a single spot. "I think it's right here."

"That's it." Sagami confirmed in the background, tying on her sleep robe of all things.

"That's it? All right, what I need is a big, fat magic marker."

The redhead blinked as though she didn't hear her, still confused. Miura looked back, her tone impatient. "You got it?"

" _What?_ " Sagami asked incredulously.

" **A magic marker.** A-a felt pen! A fucking black magic marker!" The blonde yelled, having reached the limit of her patience. "God!"

While they were arguing Ebina had readied the syringe and had it punch through the tiny bottle of adrenaline, draining its contents. She finished filling the syringe to the appropriate amount, a small _pop_ manifesting as she pulled the instrument free, fat drops of transparent adrenaline sliding down the metal needle.

"Come on, Hina. Hurry up!"

"Fuck! Okay, okay." She was tapping on the glass gently and eyeballing the massive needle, as if to make sure that the chemical inside had settled. "Okay. I think its ready."

"Hurry up!"

"Here, I'll tell you what to do." Ebina held the syringe out for Miura to receive, who recoiled from it as if she had been presented with a live snake.

"Nononono girl, I ain't- you you- you're gonna give him the shot." She argued, which the brunette instantly countered.

"No, _you're_ gonna give her the shot."

"I ain't giving him the shot." The blonde pushed the medical instrument away, but had it roughly shoved backed into her hands.

" **I** ain't giving him the shot!"

"I've never done this before-" Miura protested, but was cut short by the other girl.

"Well, I've never done this before either! And I'm not starting now." Ebina hissed, pushing the syringe into her friend's reluctant hands. "Look, you bought him here, that means _you're_ gonna give him the shot! The day that I bring an overdosing boy into _your_ house, then I give him the shot."

"Fine. Give it to me." Miura said through clenched teeth, grumbling. Sagami returned and produced a red magic marker from her hand, which the blonde snatched away with a quick swipe. "Gimme that." With the marker, she drew a large circle on the approximate spot on Totsuka's chest where she thought his heart would be, praying to her lucky stars that she was right on the dot. "All right, tell me what to do."

"Okay, uh, so you're giving him an injection of adrenaline straight to his heart." Ebina explained, sweat beading across her brow. "But he's got a-a breastplate- you've got to pierce through that."

She began thumping on the boy's chest with her fingers for emphasis, the sound of her fingers rapping against his chest almost ominous in the now-quiet living room. "So, what you gotta do is- you gotta bring the needle down, _in a stabbing motion._ "

The bespectacled girl then pantomimed stabbing the limp teenager, performing three repetitive strikes with her imaginary syringe to demonstrate the correct technique.

"I gotta- I gotta stab him three times?" Miura asked nervously, unsure.

"No you don't gotta fucking stab him three times, you just have to stab him once-" Ebina's voice was starting to take on a hysterical edge, clearly stressed from the ridiculous situation. "-but it's gotta be hard enough to get through his breastplate and into his heart. And then once you do that you p-press down on the plunger."

"Okay, then what happens?"

There was a moment of silence as Ebina opened her mouth- then latched it shut just as fast like she seemed to eat her words. "Kinda curious about that myself."

"This isn't a fucking joke, Ebina!" Miura cried, getting desperate. "I mean, am I gonna kill him-"

"No, no, no, he's just supposed to come out of it like-" She snapped her fingers loudly. "- **that**."

Somewhere along the line Shiromeguri had woken up slightly more and was now peering over their shoulders in apparent curiosity, blinking slowly as she watched them argue over a nearly-dead guy. The boy's identity was so close… it was on the tip of her tongue now.

"All right, count to three." Miura requested, earning a nod from Ebina.

"Ready? **One.** "

The room went dead silent as everyone watched the blonde lift her hand high up into the air, the long needle glinting in the light like a dagger. Ebina exhaled, her mind already calculating the arc of Miura's swing and preparing to stop her if she was about to miss.

" **Two.** "

A single drop of adrenaline leaked from the needle, splashing onto the carpet. Sagami licked her lips in nervous anticipation. Shiromeguri tilted her head and looked between all three girls, then at the boy. Miura took a deep breath, her hand twitching slightly as her eyes focused at the red marking on Totsuka's chest. There was only one shot at this- she couldn't afford to miss.

" **Three!** "

Miura brought the syringe down onto Totsuka's chest with a fleshy thump, the medical tool discharging its entire payload into his heart as it punched right through his breastplate. The teenage boy's eyes snapped open and he gasped like a drowning man, dragged back into the land of the living.

" **AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHH!** " Totsuka screamed incoherently as he trashed around, the four girls recoiling from him to give him some room. He eventually slammed back-first into Ebina's sofa, loud, choking gasps emanating from his parched mouth as wild eyes locked onto the massive needle still sticking out of his chest. Trembling hands reached up and prepared to pull it out, but thought better of it as he looked around the room to see four girls staring back at him in wonder and worry. He looked at them, then at the needle, shivering slightly as he let out a small hiccup. The girls slowly edged their way closer to him, each with varying reactions but all of them glad that he was now clearly alive instead of being stuck in a perpetual state of limbo.

"…If you're all right, then _say something_." Ebina tried, not daring to approach the boy for fear of scaring him.

It took a few moments for Totsuka to respond as he looked at each of their faces with tired, bloodshot eyes. "Something." he choked, voice unsteady.

Shiromeguri blinked, then slowly began to smile. "Oh, it's Sai-chan! I knew I recognized that face~ How've you been?"

"Oooooh." Miura collapsed in relief, head in her hands. "Oh, thank God."

"You owe me big time, Yumi-chan." Ebina groaned, doing the same. Her pajama top was drenched with sweat, giving the attire a slightly see-through appearance. "I'll get you for this."

And that was how Totsuka Saika woke up surrounded by four beautiful girls, shirtless and with a needle stuck deep into his chest.

 **[8]**

The drive back was slow and quiet, just like the gloomy night that shrouded the road leading to Hiratsuka's mansion. Neither Totsuka nor Miura said a single thing, opting to stay silent as they appreciated how closely Totsuka had come close to biting the dust. This time, it really did feel as though the humongous white walls were judging her as she pulled up into the driveway for the third time. The disheveled boy stumbled unsteadily into his house, his skin still pale and clammy. Miura quickly supported him and helped him to the living room, gently guiding him down onto the couch.

"You're gonna be okay?"

"..." The platinum blonde boy blinked groggily, then nodded. "Yeah. I just need some rest."

Miura scratched her head nervously, still feeling massively guilty about the entire incident. Technically it was her fault for not securing the stupid baggie properly... at least she still had a little bit of it left over for its original purpose of sabotage. She looked over Totsuka again with a careful eye, just making sure he was alright. He was white as a sheet, still trembling slightly and shivering, but ultimately alive.

"I'm sorry-"

"I-it wasn't your fault-" Totsuka began, before letting out a small sneeze. He was clad in one of Ebina's spare t-shirts, depicting two typical bishonen males much too close to each other.

"No. It was." Miura shook her head. "This was exactly what I was talking about. I'm a bad person, and people related to our line of work get hurt... And because of my stupidity, you got- I just- gah!

She took a deep breath to recompose herself, then started anew. "What's your thoughts on... how to handle this?"

"What's yours?"

Miura thought for a moment, then decided to lay it out straight. "Well, I'm in the opinion that if Sensei lived her whole life, she doesn't need to know nothing about this incident."

"Pfffft." The boy let out a small giggle, which made her shoot a worried but incredulous look at him, wondering if he was still suffering from any lingering effects.

"Wha- what's so funny?" The blonde huffed, still angry with herself. "You nearly died, Totsuka!"

"Nothing, it's just that-" Totsuka smiled weakly. "If Sensei knew about this incident, I'd be in as much trouble as you."

"I seriously doubt that."

Totsuka hummed, then his eyes lit up with a sort of understanding. "I can keep a secret if you can."

"Shake on it?"

The two reached out and shook hands, Miura feeling exactly how cold and sweaty his palm had become. A pang of guilt struck deep into her heart.

"You don't need to be sorry, Yumiko-san. If anything, I should be thanking you." The boy coughed, before giving her a look full of gratitude. " **You saved my life.** "

"I caused your life to be in danger in the first place. It was the only natural thing to do."

"I guess we're even then."

The pair shared an awkward silence before bursting into small, silent chuckles, basking in the complete and utter weirdness of the situation they found themselves in.

"I'll see you around, Yumiko-san." Totsuka cut her off with a wave of her hand before she could respond, a teasing smirk on his face. "Thank you for taking care of me this evening."

"You're welcome. Evidently I didn't do a very good job, seeing as you nearly died. Are you sure you're gonna be okay, Totsuka?" Miura groaned, a hand on her forehead.

"I'll be fine, really." Totsuka eyed his own shirt with a raised eyebrow, before dismissing it entirely. "Don't worry- I won't say a word of what happened."

"I... appreciate it, thanks. If Sensei knew... I'd be a red stain on the ground. Well if there's anything you need, just call me." The blonde sighed, nodding. "Now, If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home and have a heart attack."

Miura turned and started to make her way back to the car, dragging her feet groggily as she did. It'd been a hell of a day and all she wanted to do now was go home and catch up on some beauty sleep. God knows she needs it.

"Yumiko-san."

She looked back to Totsuka, worry creasing her features. "Yeah?"

"You're a good person, Yumiko-san... and I hope you'll find your happiness with Hachiman." Totsuka smiled, waving gently to say goodbye. "Drive safely."

The blonde returned a tired smile, giving him a little wave of her own. "Mmm. You take care now, Totsuka."

With that, the Malibu rumbled to life and raced into the night, the girl behind the wheel sighing in relief. Thank God that everything had turned out alright in the end... she made a mental note to be more careful in the future. Perhaps she'd been careless the other day too, when the weapon misfired and killed someone who they weren't meant to dispose of. Oh well. Things happen, and its only logical that one would have to learn from their mistakes as they progressed in life.

She just hoped she wasn't making her biggest one yet.

* * *

 **Omake 1: Shiromeguri's Safehouse**

Shiromeguri Meguri wasn't really feeling very cheerful right now, a huge contrast to her usual carefree and happy-go-lucky attitude. Her youthful brown eyes narrowed to thin slits as she watched the storage warehouse that she'd called her home for nearly two years get consumed by the roaring, hungry flames. The docks were aflame with chaos as six men took cover behind an SUV, probably the perpetrators that had set the place alight in the first place. Across them were three of Hiratsuka's men, pinned down by heavy automatic fire that the enemy gangsters were sending their way. The power grid had somehow been damaged, the area completely dark except the illumination of brilliant flames and gunfire.

The schoolgirl revved the throttle of her motorcycle, making her way closer to the battle between the two groups. One of the friendly men seemed to recognize her, waving for her to keep her head down. She quickly got off the bike and sprinted over to their position behind a thick concrete barrier, bullets pinging off it like bits of hail. Her helmet was put aside for now as she began planning on how to deal with the intruders.

"Shiromeguri-sama! I'm sorry, they caught us by surprise-" One of them began, only for the girl to cut them off.

"Save it. Just tell me what the hell happened." She growled, putting her backpack down as she reached for something within.

"These jokers showed up in that SUV and rammed past the security gate- when we got here they'd already set fire to the inside of the warehouse with molotovs."

"How many?"

"Six of them as far as we can tell, Ma'am."

"Mmm. Then at least there'll be some left alive." Shiromeguri pulled out a strange, cylindrical tube and slung a bandolier holding a set of egg-shaped canisters across her sizeable chest. The tube split open and the girl inserted one of the canisters into it, a quick motion of her wrist flicking the weapon shut with a sharp _clack_. Without a word she began angling the tube upwards, a look of deep thought on her face.

One of her underlings scooted closer, pulling out a red emergency flaregun. "You need a flare?"

Across the small battlefield, they could hear the enemy taunting, laughing and cursing their name. "Screw you, Hiratsuka Dog! We burn warehouse to the ground!"

"No," She answered, almost stoically. "He's close. He's _real_ close."

Shiromeguri made minute adjustments and tiny shifts as she gauged the enemy position and the arc of her Grenade Launcher, using the mental snapshot she'd taken earlier when she'd first seen them and their angry shouts for reference. They were what, somewhere between a hundred or two hundred meters away? The barrel of her weapon aimed just a little higher to compensate for the projectile's arc.

"Fuck you! Bastards, Fuck-"

She depressed the trigger and the Thumper spat out the 40mm round with a loud _Phtoonk_. There was a few, scant seconds of silence as the projectile sailed through the air.

"-you! We're go-" Whatever the men were trying to say next was cut short as a high-explosive round landed in their midst, turning their taunts into pained screams mid-sentence that echoed through the docks. The firing stopped, and one of the underlings peeked out to check before giving the all-clear signal. The girl emerged from her bullet-riddled cover calmly, already picking up another 40mm round from her bandolier.

Shiromeguri examined the round in her hand, double-checking it to make sure it wasn't the same one she used before. This one was a buckshot round, designed for close-range engagements. With a practiced ease, she emptied the chamber and slotted the new round in, humming in satisfaction as she inspected the carnage she caused. Upon reaching the impact site, she let out a long, low whistle. Out of the six men that had been firing at them, three had been killed in the explosion. One of the bodies had its midsection blown apart, the torso and waist twisted in opposite directions. Nasty.

Her three underlings flanked around her, aiming their weapons at the remaining survivors. One of them was clearly unconscious and relatively unscathed, the other two moving but out of action from their wounds. The first started to reach for a nearby pistol, only to have his hand stomped on by Shiromeguri's heavy boot while she aimed her weapon at the other survivor. The other wounded man backed away, his hands up in the air as he pleaded for his life. She didn't blame him for his fear- she was an imposing sight as the light from the flames both illuminated and masked her face, smoking weapon in her grip.

"I-I surrender."

She turned to weapon away, now having the barrel aimed squarely at the first man's face. "What about you?"

"Go to Hell, bitch." He spat, blood already starting to pool from his wounds. His tattooed arm clawed weakly at her leg, too drained to pry her heel off his hand.

"You first." With a pull of the trigger, the man's head simply disappeared as the buckshot round ripped right through it, scattering what was once flesh into the four winds. A red stain was the only thing left of his head as the body twitched, stilled and began to cool. She felt a few splotches of blood land on her face, most of it pooling around her boots.

The second survivor whimpered and backed away even further only for Shriomeguri to advance on him, the barrel of her weapon whipping across his face and breaking his nose when metal met cartilage. He collapsed with a pained cry, the underlings moving in to hoist him up.

"What should we do, Ma'am?" One of them asked, referring to the two survivors.

The girl huffed, then pointed to him in particular. "You stay here and coordinate with the other team I'll be calling to salvage what we can from the fire. Firefighters should arrive any minute now, so get the bodies out of here. Put them somewhere else, then search them later. Cloak the bloodstains with the SUV or something, you guys figure it out."

"You two. Bring them back to Intelligence." Shiromeguri turned to the other two underlings, who listened with rapt attention. She sneered at the surviving gangsters, her nose turned upward in derision. Her helmet found its way back onto her head, tightening the straps as she flipped her reflective visor down. "Find out where they came from. And bring me back anything... useful. If any of them gives you trouble, kill them. We only need one alive to talk."

After a few phone calls, the chopper roared to life as Shiromeguri kicked it into gear, the motorbike rumbling onto the highway as she began to plan her new destination. A little later and a trio of Fire Engines sped past her on the other lane, headed towards the warehouse. She sighed internally, hoping that the boys would be able to clean up that mess in time. To top it all off, she now needed a new place to stay. Hmmm... she wondered if she could crash with Ebina. That'd be nice.

 **[8]**

"Shiromeguri-san, please don't come in with your boots bloody like that. You'll ruin my carpet!"

"Don't worry, it's not my blood."

"That doesn't have to do with anything!"

* * *

 **Omake 2: Sagami's Sadism**

Sagami hummed a cheery little tune, safe from the scorching afternoon heat as she twirled a straight razor in one hand, her smartphone in the other.

"Mmm-hmm. Yeah. The Da-Nang Boys. A Vietnamese Gang, from the looks of it. Newcomers out for fame." The redhead answered, nodding to herself. "That's all I could get out of him- poor bastard speaks _horrendous_ Japanese."

"Nggh- p-please..." The man whimpered, his face bruised and bloody. Tiny cuts decorated his legs and arms, each varying in depth and width. More worrying was the black eye and ugly purple blotches that had bloomed across his body. Any normal person that looked at his fingers and toes at that moment would have lost their breakfast.

"Hmmm? As you wish, Sensei. Bye." Sagami hung up, sliding the phone back into her pocket. "Well old friend, it's been fun."

"No, please! I tell you everything!" He begged, the chair he was tied to shaking as he struggled against his bonds but to no avail. "Please!"

"I'll be sad to see you go... I know! How about a song to say farewell?" The schoolgirl brought out her phone once more and placed it onto a nearby desk, scrolling through her playlist until she found a song she liked. "Ah, here we go. This one's a classic."

The familiar twang of a guitar started playing, followed by the rhythmic beat of drums. The sound echoed through the empty warehouse as Sagami increased the volume, a wide smile decorating her girlish features. Then, to the man's complete and utter horror, she started to _dance_.

[AN: watch?v=DohRa9lsx0Q]

The teenaged girl did a slight shuffle, looking rather snappy in her dress shirt and black pants as her feet slid across the dusty floor with a beat that matched the song. Even worse, she started to _sing_.

" _Well, I don't know why I came here tonight~_

 _I got the feeling that something ain't right~_

 _I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair-_ "

"I-I-I don't want to die!" The man began to shake, his fear starting to overwhelm him as pure, unadulterated horror coursed through his veins like ice. "Stop!"

Sagami ignored his pleas, clearly enjoying herself as she twisted and moved with the rhythm. The straight razor in her hand gleamed menacingly with a flurry of movement.

" _And I'm wondering how I'll get down those stairs~_

 _Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right- Here I am, stuck in the middle with you~_ "

She whipped the blade up with a sudden flick of her wrist, the metal carving a deep gouge into the man's face. The poor man screamed, feeling a sudden numbness in the area, followed by a lancing, red-hot spike of pain.

"Hold still, handsome." Sagami leaned in close, her malicious smile ear-to-ear now. She gripped the side of his head and- what happened next was better left undescribed as the man began to scream even louder, sounding like a dying pig as the girl began to cut deeper into him, reveling in her sadism. The song continued to play in the background, punctuated with the man's cries of pain. When she pulled away, her hand was bloody and held a strange, oblong piece of flesh... the man's severed ear. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"AHHHHHHGGGGHHHHHH!"

The schoolgirl gazed at the uneven lump with an almost proud expression, turning back to her toy with a satisfied smirk. She then brought the severed ear to her mouth, talking into it like a phone's receiver. "Hey, what's going on? You hear that? Heheheh."

"AHHHHH! AGGGGGHHHH!"

She tossed it away, laughing and now beginning to eye the man's battered chest, or more specifically, the tattoo on his chest depicting a Dragon encircling a moon.

"That's a nice design you have there..." Sagami's face curled into a sadistic grin, licking her lips in hungry anticipation. She flipped the blade expertly, the weapon slashing across the air with a soft _swish_. " **Give it to me.** "

* * *

 **Omake 3: Ebina's Escape**

Ebina Hina was surprisingly cheery for a teenage girl sharing a stuffy old elevator with a bunch of four older men armed to the teeth. The gave her a little distance, many of them out of respect. She whispered a little song in tune with the elevator music, her musical voice making some of the underlings glance at each other with nervousness.

" _If I could save time in a bottle~ the first thing that I'd like to doooooo~_ "

"Erm. Ebina-sama." One younger, newbie underling piped up, much to the horror of the older veterans. Though, they were glad that they didn't have to endure any more singing, even if she did sing rather well. This mission was making everyone nervous... especially since they were basically meeting an opposing gang.

"Yes?" She tilted back to face him slightly with a mild expression.

"With all due respect, how can you be so calm?"

"That's the thing- I'm not. I'm just making it look like I'm calm. Helps with negotiations." Ebina hummed again, patting on her holstered pistol. "Relax, dude. It's a classic negotiation. Worst comes to worst we end in a standoff."

"B-but the older veterans told me that assignments with you nearly _always_ end in a standoff." The three veteran grunts groaned at that, one even facepalming. They were so going to give the newbie a talking-to after this.

"Did they now." A vein pulsed in the young girl's forehead before it seemed to disappear completely, replaced by a sweet and radiant smile. The veterans shivered when they saw that horrific sight, backing away into the small corners of the cramped elevator. "Well, we are a rival gang. Things like that happen all the time."

The elevator doors slid open with a loud _ding_. Ebina clapped her hands, while the newbie gulped and tightened his grip around his shotgun.

"Let's do this. Just relax, newbie. Don't shoot anybody unless I tell you to."

She strode into the factory like she owned the place, ignoring the many strange looks that she got. Truth be told, they were a strange sight- a young woman dressed in a crisp, neat dark suit flanked by four armed men wielding rifles and shotguns. Ebina smiled as she approached the main area, where a slick looking man was waiting at a table backed by a small garrison of his own bodyguards.

"Well, look at this, boys. Hiratsuka sends one of her freaks instead of showing up in person." The man sneered, inadvertently displaying his yellowing teeth. He sipped at his red wine, swirling the liquid around in his glass. "What does that tell us about the Hiratsuka-kai?"

Some of the bodyguards behind him snickered, much to the dislike of Ebina's own bodyguards. She made a small, discreet motion for them not to respond in any way, keeping them in check. "It's nice to see you again too, Asaka-san."

"Pleasure's all mine, brat. Now, what do you want?" He took a swig of his wine as she made her way closer, opting to sit opposite him.

"It has come to our to our attention-" Ebina swept a hand around the factory, prompting some of Asaka's bodyguards to tighten their grips around their weapons. Her own men did the same in response, jaws clenched with tension. "-that you're operating this _drug factory_ , of all things, on **_our territory_**. Why is that? You know what the Hiratsuka-kai's policy on hard drugs is."

" _That's_ what this is about? Hah! Well why didn't you say so?" The slimy gangster chuckled darkly, motioning one of the men behind him to come over. "In that case, I'm sure that _this_ will settle things..."

The bodyguard brought up a large briefcase and emptied its contents onto the table, fat stacks of cash creating a small mountain between the two negotiators. Asaka leered at the younger girl, his eyes shining with menace as he chucked over a small baggie. Ebina snatched it out of the air with a single hand, gazing at it curiously. "The money I understand, but this is?"

"A sample of our newest drug. An improvement on the _China White_ formula; even a small amount is able to give a grown man the most _amazing_ high, just from ingesting it. _Schnee Weiss_. The bane of new users." Asaka took a deep breath, seemingly proud of his own work. " **Snow White** **.** "

"Are you trying to bribe me, Asaka-san?" Ebina asked coyly, pocketing the baggie away for future use. She got a feeling the boss would have a use for it in the future.

"I dunno, you tell me." The greasy man leaned back, satisfied. "Go back to your master and tell her your 'negotiation' went just fine, _lapdog_."

A few more snickers from the armed men behind him. Ebina's expression didn't change a single bit as she hummed thoughtfully, a dainty hand on her cheek. It seemed nobody had noticed that her right hand had been under the table ever since the meeting started.

" _I dunno._ " She mimicked, the corners of her mouth starting to curl upwards. "I dunno. Maybe I'm just not making myself clear."

She picked up a stack of cash and slapped it on the table, then dipped her gloved fingers into his glass of red wine, giving them a quick sniff. Asaka frowned, clearly not expecting the blatant disrespect that she'd just shown him.

"I don't wanna fuck with you, Asaka-san." Ebina's voice took on a sickeningly sweet tone, saccharine to the core. "But we've got the connections, we've got the sales organization-" The teenager leaned in a little closer, a dark smirk on her features. "-we've got the muscle to shove enough of this factory so far up your **stupid, wop ass** that you'll _shit snow for a year._ "

The older man snarled, his face twisted with rage. "Blow this bitch's head off-"

The moment the words barely even left his mouth, Ebina's bodyguards cocked their weapons with threatening clacks and aimed squarely for his head, his own bodyguards doing the same almost simultaneously to her. Each side had at least four loaded weapons pointed in their direction, a classic Mexican standoff when neither side refused to back off.

"Oooooh. Guns, guns, guns!" Ebina laughed, looking very much like an ordinary schoolgirl for that single, fleeting moment. "Come on, Asaka-san! My favorite anime's airing-" She drummed the fingers of her left hand on the table cheerfully. "-tonight! I never miss an episode."

Before the older man could retort, there was the sound of glass shattering as small canisters sailed though the windows, white clouds of gas trailing in their wake. A loud, electronically amplified voice boomed from outside the building.

" _This is the Police! Give it up, we have the building surrounded! There's nowhere to run!_ "

For a single, tense moment the two factions just stared blankly at each other. The girl responded first, her tone incredulous and accusing.

"A fucking sting op? This was a setup!" Ebina growled, glaring at Asaka's shocked expression.

"What?! No, I-"

The main factory doors burst open as Japanese SWAT teams infiltrated the building, yelling out declarations and threats. Asaka's bodyguards turned around and opened fire... leaving him wide open and unprotected. Ebina sized her chance, a manic grin appearing as she flicked the safety off the handgun she had under the table for the entire meeting- which she had aimed at the older man's groin.

"Gotcha, you greasy bastard." She pulled the trigger thrice and three suppressed rounds punched into Asaka's unmentionables, eliciting a high-pitched scream of pain from the gangster.

"Yo, newbie!"

"Y-yes, Ebina-sama?"

"Now you can shoot him." In all the chaos and confusion no one noticed as Asaka collapsed when the shotgun slug punched straight through his face, his bodyguards too undisciplined and only caring for their own lives as they fired away wildly at the cops below. Ironically, they were slowing the cops down and acting as a distraction. Right before they reached the back exit, Ebina and her team turned back and gunned down remaining survivors of Asaka's bodyguard team, ensuring that none of them lived to talk about the meeting. The factory workers might have seen her, but they were all illegal immigrants so that should throw the cops off quite a bit. Ebina and her men piled into the getaway vehicle, the young girl laughing manically as they made their escape in the nondescript van with the huge stacks of cash cradled in their arms as a special bonus. The Police never suspected a single thing as the van slipped past their checkpoint via a hidden route she had planned beforehand. Suckers.

She quietly neglected to mention that she was the one who had leaked the factory's location to the police in the first place. Why do something when you can get someone else to do it for you, and for free? The girl chuckled to herself, patting the newbie on the back while the others sighed with relief. With a quick flourish of her hand she took off the suit jacket and tie to reveal a normal blouse under it, changing her look to resemble a perfectly normal teenager.

"Good shooting, new guy. Now, let's all go get some ice-cream to celebrate."

And so, later that morning they were the subjects of quite a few stares and whispers as the public witnessed four muscular grown men enjoying some ice-cream with a teenage girl in the park, the odd group laughing amongst themselves with great cheer.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Sorry I didn't update, I just had massive writer's block regarding this fic so I stopped for awhile. It's inexcusable, really. Again, sorry.**

 **Plagarism- I mean, references ahoy! See if you can spot the references, cuz I ain't gonna list them out no more. See ya around for the next chapter, I guess.**


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